


Assassin's Tango

by MEIXIU



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Action, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amoral Characters, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Comedy, De-Aged Character(s), Don't Read Too Much Into their Morality, Falling In Love, Hints of Weird Sci-Fi Technology, Hitman!Viktor, Honeytrap!Yuuri, Hotel Sex, Kitchen Sex, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Making Love In All The Wrong Places, Not Exactly Slow Build, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Table Sex, There's No Holding Back, They're All Morally Ambiguous Characters, Will Use Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:29:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 73,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9221000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MEIXIU/pseuds/MEIXIU
Summary: They are the world's most greatest assassins. Their identities are a secret, even from each other. One day, however, they discover that they have been assigned to kill one another and their reality comes crashing down on them both.--Basically, a Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU with a few changes here and there.--Spanish TranslationHere.





	1. That Night In Buenos Aires

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this Tumblr post

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They fell for each other fast in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hotel I have in mind probably doesn't exist but shhhh. 
> 
> \-- 
> 
> Warnings: Making Out, Barebacking, Anal Sex (It's my first smut and I am so bad. Forgiveness.)
> 
> \--

_Beautiful._  That was the first word that popped into Viktor Nikiforov's mind when he spots him for the first time, sitting on a bar stool straight across the room from where Viktor settled at the start of the night. Viktor props up his elbows on the table to survey the man a little more comfortably. He was maybe a few inches shorter than he was, Viktor thinks, and his shoulders and stature was slighter, more lithe than Viktor's own physique. The man had a head of thick, raven-black hair that was swept back and his slightly upturned slanted eyes were currently half-lidded, perfect for when he's wearing an apathetic look on his face. One of his hands was holding a scotch glass (his  _fourth_  one, if Viktor's quiet observation since the start of the night wasn't wrong - also  _wow_ , that sounded so creepy) while his other was holding his smartphone and was vigorously typing at the screen, if the movements of his fingers were any indication of that.

He seems to be attempting to ignore the other man who was inexpertly trying to catch his attention who sat on the seat right next to him. Viktor knows the other man's type; the lecherous bar creep is an ever-present staple in establishments like these, Viktor muses. The beautiful stranger's apathetic expression changed the moment unwanted contact commenced by way of the leech's arm reaching to rest a hand on the man's lap and Viktor decides to step in then. 

He crossed the room, striding purposefully towards the bar and without even so much as hint of hesitation, he wrapped his arm around the beautiful stranger's rather slim waist and greeted with a low, husky, "Hello, baby. Did you miss me?"

The unwanted hand retracts almost instantly and Viktor's eyes trailed to meet the leech's gaze and sees them wearing the appropriate reaction to his presence: stunned, intimidated and in total disbelief. Maybe it was the accent, Viktor muses dully. Maybe it was the looks. Viktor wasn't humble enough to say that he wasn't that good looking because he knows he was and milks it for all that it was worth. He just doesn't go around reminding everyone that like a certain someone he knows.

He gives the leech a mocking smirk before he turns his attention back to the beautiful stranger. 

Viktor sees his chocolate brown eyes widened for a moment before they soften, seemingly deciding to play along. He flashed Viktor a row of perfectly white teeth as he grinned. "You were gone for so long, dear. I can't believe you left me alone." His English had a bit of an accent to it. Distinctly Asian, Viktor assesses. He supposes the slightly upturned eyes should have clued him in on his descent. 

"My apologies, darling." Viktor coos right against the shell of his ear and the beautiful stranger giggles and swats him playfully on the arm. "Let me make it up to you with a dance?" Viktor offers when he hears the sounds of guitars coming from the outdoor dance floor. 

"I thought you have two left feet." The man teases but was already getting to his feet anyways, stuffing his phone back into the pocket of his slacks, leaving his half-empty glass of scotch behind. The bar creep was thoroughly ignored and did not look pleased about it. 

"Maybe I learnt a few tricks now that we're here in Buenos Aires." Viktor says blithely, taking the stranger by the hand and pulled him towards the ornate glass doors and out into the outdoor dance floor, which was underneath a canopy of twinkle lights. The music picked up and Viktor recognizes the beat and the count and begins to dance, timing his steps to the intensity of the song. The man seemed to be well trained in the arts that even as they started dancing to the crescendo of the Spanish guitars and the violins without preamble, he matched Viktor with every step of the way.

"Well, you're certainly full of surprises." Viktor notes offhandedly as he brings the man into a careful dip. The other man smirks. Viktor brings him back up as the song shifts to something softer. The song was still distinctly Hispanic but was a less frenzied song than the Paso Doble from earlier. 

"I'd say you're more so, considering I did not expect that stunt you pulled there." The man tilts his head towards the entrance where the bar and lounge was and Viktor shrugs his shoulders. 

"Is that your roundabout way of saying thank you?" He says rather cheekily, giving him a wink. 

"Maybe." The man says airly. Viktor can see that the tips of his ears have gone red. It was either the alcohol or the effort of the dance, Viktor muses, though he wouldn't be opposed to the idea of this beautiful stranger being affected by such a flirty gesture. "I'd give you a proper thank you if you tell me your name." he adds and his smile seems a bit softer this time. 

"Will you tell me yours too, then?" 

"Maybe." 

Viktor lets out a little chuckle. Of course. "Viktor. Call me Viktor." he whispers close to the man's ear. 

They were close enough for Viktor to feel a slight shudder course through the other man's body and he can't help but like that. "Yuuri." They replied, almost sounding a bit hasty. "That's two U's if you ever plan to spell it out." he elaborates. 

"Yuuri." Viktor mouths the word, to test it rolling off his tongue. He likes the sound of it. He likes saying it. " _Yuu-_ ri." He purrs. 

Yuuri chuckles and it was music to Viktor's ears. Damn. "Viktor."

"So, what's my thank you?" He keeps his voice low, his eyes now half-lidded as he gazes at the pretty face in front of him. 

"Hm," Yuuri draws out the sound as he closes his eyes, and when Viktor meets those chocolate brown eyes again, they were glinting with something full of promise.

"I'm open to suggestions."

And Viktor had one in mind almost immediately. 

* * *

Three bottles of fortified, aged Italian Marsala wine later and Viktor finds himself giggling like a schoolgirl alongside an equally giddy Yuuri as they exited the elevator and stumbled along the fourteenth floor hallway. Viktor was particularly hasty as he tried to swipe his card on the door while Yuuri was nipping at whatever skin was exposed around his neck, surely leaving bruises that Viktor will be proud of sporting come next morning.

It'll give the partner he ditched sometime ago something to talk about when they meet again in the morning at the rendezvous point at Puerto Madero. 

When the infernal door finally opened, Viktor pulled the other man inside and slammed Yuuri against the back of the hotel door, crushing their lips in a fervent kiss that Yuuri didn't seem to mind it, immediately wrapping his arms around Viktor's neck and trying to pull him in closer to deepen it. When they finally pulled away, Yuuri was breathless and Viktor had the nerve to ask if he even breathed through his nose throughout all that. Yuuri smacked him playfully on the arm again, letting out a low chuckle. Viktor smiles and tugs on Yuuri's hand, pulling him further inside the luxurious suite and stopped as they reached the end of the bed. 

Yuuri was the one to initiate another kiss but it was quickly broken off when Yuuri unceremoniously shoved at his chest, forcing Viktor to fall backwards unto the bed, just so Yuuri can clamber on top of him and straddle him as he sits on Viktor's crotch. Viktor could feel his erection throbbing against the fabric of his underwear and his slacks and he wishes that he discarded them.

He wishes their clothes were just all over the room. 

"C-Christ," Yuuri breaths. "Who would have thought my night would go like this?" He sounded amused as he ran his hand to smooth back his hair again. 

Just like him, Viktor thinks. But Viktor wasn't here to sight-see as he assumes what Yuuri is here for. He was supposed to be in the middle of work but, then again, his boss (or his partner, for that matter) wasn't around to reprimand him for having a bit of fun. He grins. "Are you regretting it?"

Yuuri laughs and Viktor is really fucked when he finds his laugh silvery. "Does it look like I am?" He makes the motion of grinding his crotch against Viktor's and grins at Viktor's noticable reaction, which was to bite his lip for a brief period before letting it go. 

Yuuri doesn't look like anything else but the most beautiful person that Viktor has ever had the pleasure of feasting his eyes on. Yuuri's brown eyes were mesmerizing on how they looked brown and orange underneath certain lighting. His thick eyelashes seemed like they would be soft to the touch. What Viktor can't get enough of were his cheeks, which were soft and slightly rounded but the rest of his body was toned and lean.

"Definitely not." Viktor breathes. 

His subsequent smirk was going to end Viktor, as his lips were slightly swollen from Viktor's incessant biting of them. Yuuri must have noticed something; a reaction that Viktor didn't notice himself as he licked his lips and peered down at Viktor like a predator to a prey. "Good. I hope the same goes for you." Yuuri purrs as his hands rest on Viktor's stomach, sliding it across his torso until his fingers reach the first button of Viktor's dress shirt, which he begins to unbutton with slight haste. Viktor realizes then that he has hands too and brings them up to rub at Yuuri's slim waist, bringing them down to reach to his hips. He tugs at the tucked hemline of Yuuri's own dress shirt and pulls them out of the confines of the waistband of his slacks and hikes it up so that he can run his hands on the bare flesh of Yuuri's stomach and sides. Viktor feels soft skin and subtly muscle against the palm of his hands before he brought one hand down to the button of Yuuri's pants. 

"There's too much in the way..." Viktor mutters. Yuuri seems to have realized that too as he is frustrated with a particular button on Viktor's shirt, gets impatient and just rips it open. Viktor vaguely remembers that it was Armani but fuck that. He had a lot of them anyways. Viktor responds in kind, ripping open Yuuri's shirt, sending buttons flying at several directions and Yuuri doesn't seem to care either. Yuuri shrugs off his shirt entirely, revealing lean arms and slender shoulders and more of his milky, smooth flesh. 

Viktor sits up so he can nip at the exposed flesh and Yuuri brings his arms up to cling to Viktor's shoulders, his finger nails digging into Viktor's flesh in a way that makes him hiss but not be pissed off about it. He uses his free hands to rub at Yuuri's clothed thighs, feeling them slightly tense as Viktor continues to leave bruises around his neck, making him wince and gasp and breathless. Viktor pulled away after leaving Yuuri a long line of reddish bruises that trailed up from his shoulder blade and the nape of his neck and tells him to lie down, which he complies fairly easily, flopping down to his stomach first before he flipped over and lied on his back instead.

Viktor rests on his knees in between Yuuri's legs and unbuckles his belt, tosses it over his shoulder and unbuttons his pants and Yuuri hastily moves his hands to do the same motions, albeit a bit sloppily because of his shaking fingers. Viktor slides out of bed to slip off his now useless shirt and let it fall to the floor, alongside his pants and underwear so that he was completely naked, and hard, while he goes over to the nightstand to search for hotel lube.

When he returns to hover back at his bed mate with a small bottle of flavourless lube in hand, he finds Yuuri with his arms over his face and squirming slightly as he lay underneath him. His skin was flushed, he felt so hot and Viktor hasn't even done anything yet to garner such laboured breathing.

"H-Hurry, please..." Yuuri breaths. It was probably the anticipation then, he assumes, that was making Yuuri have some breathing difficulties. Viktor can see that his member was straining against the fabric of his underwear and Viktor smiles at that and sets the lube aside so he can address his man's frustrations. Viktor tugs at the waistband of the briefs and Yuuri gasps when his erection springs up from its confines. Viktor wraps his hand around it and starts with slow strokes that has Yuuri squirming again. When he feels the malleable member get harder with each slow ministration and a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip, Viktor lowers himself forwards and takes Yuuri into the back of his throat. 

Yuuri lets out a strangled gasp and moves his arms to bring his hands over his mouth, muffling his moans. Viktor hums, sending vibrations on the already sensitive organ and pulls his face away to mockingly frown at Yuuri. His hand returns to grip the member and start pumping at it again. 

"There's no need to be shy now." He muses as he brings one of his hands to grab Yuuri's wrist to tug his hand away from his mouth. Yuuri was easy enough to convince, even if it was with some reluctance, and he set his arms to grip at the bed sheets instead. "Don't hold back." Viktor says as he lowers himself again, trailing kisses along the inside of Yuuri's thigh before he released his hand and brought back his cock into his mouth, sucking and bobbing his head, tasting the saltiness of pre-cum that was spilling from the tip of Yuuri's dick.

"Ah!" Yuuri gasps and Viktor grips at Yuuri's thighs to keep him still. He's so sensitive and Viktor loves it. With each noise he makes, with each laboured breath, it was making Viktor's dick ache and throb. One of Yuuri's hands finds its way to grip at Viktor's hair and Yuuri tugs on it hard as he pulls Viktor away from his crotch.

"I-If you..." Yuuri begins, his eyes half-lidded and somewhat glaring at Viktor. "If you don't stop, I won't last..." He manages to finish and his grip on Viktor's hair loosens as he brings it back to gripping the sheets again. 

"Can't have that now, right?" Viktor winks cheekily and Yuuri rolls his eyes. Viktor takes the lube again and generously coats his fingers with it and brought one finger up to Yuuri's puckered hole and teases it with his finger. He watches Yuuri's reaction and sees that Yuuri was biting his lip. The anticipation was probably going to drive him wild; make him demanding. His finger breaches the entrance and Yuuri's breathing hitches. He brings his finger down to the second knuckle and gently starts to slide his finger in and out before bringing in a second appendage and then a third for good measure. 

Viktor continues to do this, all the while stroking at his own cock to ease his own frustrations until Yuuri cries out when his fingers brush against a certain spot inside him. Viktor smirks. 

"Fuck..!" Yuuri cries and starts rambling in breathy Japanese. It took him a few moments to realize this and he manages to choke out, "P-Please, just fucking-"

"Shh, my star. I'm here." Viktor says softly. He takes the bottle of lube again and generously coats his dick with it, wincing a bit when he feels the coldness against his heated skin. He maneuvers his way in between Yuuri's legs, gently prodding him to spread them further. He hitches up Yuuri's legs and props them over his shoulder, lining up his cock at Yuuri's lubed-up entrance and presses the tip at the puckered hole and starts to ease his member in. 

Yuuri's eyes were immediately wide open and he brings his arms up and wrapped them around Viktor's bare torso, his fingernails digging into his flesh again. Yuuri lets out a strangled cry that Viktor silences with a deep, open-mouthed kiss. He pauses when he's all the way in, to let Yuuri adjust to his girth, entertaining Yuuri with his kisses and his hands running along Yuuri's heated skin. 

"M-Move..." Yuuri breathes as soon as Viktor pulls away from the kiss. Yuuri's chocolate brown eyes were practically black, his pupils blown and his gaze hungry. Viktor nods and starts to move. He starts out slow, gradually picking up the pace when Yuuri demands for it. The sound of their moans and panting echoed in the room, filling the silence. Viktor get to his knees and lowers one of Yuuri's legs while keeping one over his shoulder. Yuuri adjusts his body to the new angle, lying slightly on his side and Viktor pulls out of him, only to slam back inside. 

Yuuri let out a yell that he managed to muffle with the pillow just in time. If he were any louder, his yell could be heard from the next five doors down the hall. Viktor grips at Yuuri's thighs and keeps going at a faster pace. He hits that sweet spot again and again, sending Yuuri into a frenzy that has his cock dripping with pre-cum, effectively ruining the sheets but Viktor couldn't care less. Yuuri was so tight and hot that it was making Viktor feel almost animalistic with excitement. 

"Fuck...n..m.. harder... f-fuck me harder!"

Viktor let out a breathy laugh and pulled out quick, earning a hiss and a whine from the man underneath him. Viktor set down his leg and tugged his arm, pulling him forwards "On your knees, star. Come on." Yuuri easily complied, even if his movements were a bit slack and lazy. Viktor instructs him to grip on the headboard, which Yuuri does and he rests his forehead on his hands as they grip the top of the wooden headboard while Viktor moves a bit closer and angles himself just right again before slamming his cock back into Yuuri's entrance, his grip on Yuuri's hips practically leaving bruises on his skin. Yuuri groaned and he was getting louder and less articulate with each frenzied thrust. He manages to choke out Viktor's name in between his pants and groans but even then he sometimes can't get past the first syllable. 

Viktor lowers himself and presses his chest against Yuuri's back, breathed against the man's neck and behind his right ear to whisper his name. He snaked his hand down from Yuuri's hips and down to grip at Yuuri's hot, wet member and begins to stroke it, hard and fast. Yuuri chokes out Viktor's name when he comes in Viktor's hand and Viktor feels himself getting close just from the sound of it. He continues to slam into him and then bites hard on Yuuri's shoulder, earning a well-deserved yelp of pain, as he tries to muffle his groan when he comes. He screws his eyes shut, riding the waves until his hips stopped stuttering and lets go of Yuuri's flesh between his teeth. He kisses the spot briefly before slowly rising to sit up on his knees and pull out of Yuuri, watching as hot, white cum oozes out of Yuuri's entrance as soon as his dick was out. 

They fell back unto the bed, feeling well spent and trying to catch their breath. Viktor uses the coverlet to wipe Yuuri down, as well as clean his hand, deciding to leave a very generous tip to the cleaning person next morning for the trouble they'll go through to clean this up. After a while, Yuuri's giggle broke through the chorus of panting. 

"You are so helping me to the bath." He breaths in between his light laughter. Viktor chuckles and nods in acknowledgement. They didn't move until ten minutes later and Viktor carried Yuuri with ease to the rather spacious bathroom and set him down on the edge of the tub while he draws the bath. He vaguely remembers that the Japanese like to have hot baths so he turns on the hot water tap, brings a hand to it and winces slightly at the hotness of it.

Yuuri was leaning to his side against the cold wall, still looking slightly dazed. His hair was no longer slicked back but was falling messily over his forehead and his skin was marred with red bruises that will surely be a bit more purple come next morning. His half-lidded eyes seemed to be blinking away the drowsiness that was starting to sink in. 

"Nikiforov." Viktor suddenly blurts out after a few minutes of silence. 

"Huh?" Yuuri turns his gaze to Viktor. 

"My last name is Nikiforov." Rule Number One in sleeping with near strangers: Don't give them your last name. Viktor finds it within himself that he can't really bring himself to care at all. 

Yuuri was silent for a few moments and then said, "...Katsuki. My name is Yuuri Katsuki." He mutters softly. 

"So you  _are_  Japanese?"

"I would have thought that my name clued you in on that." He manages to joke, voice soft. 

"Your name can also be a name in my homeland." Viktor muses. "Though it's not spelled with two U's." He turns off the tap when he sees that the tub was full enough but doesn't bring Yuuri in it immediately. He picks Yuuri up again - this time the man is self-conscious enough to protest at the gesture - and brings him over to the shower, setting him down on a short stool. 

"I'm supposed to be helping you, right?" Viktor says huskily, running a palm on Yuuri's thigh, bringing it down until he reaches the underside of his right thigh and then trails his finger towards Yuuri's entrance. "You didn't even protest when I didn't use a condom..." Viktor was clean, of course but he couldn't find condoms anywhere and was too far gone to actually ask Yuuri if he was alright with it. 

Yuuri flushes slightly and turns his gaze away. "I... I don't mind." he grumbles and then says something in Japanese. Viktor was a polyglot but he was not a master of all languages. He's fluent in Russian, French, and English, knows a bit of German, some conversational Spanish and intermediate Italian but he's tried Asian languages before. Filipino was difficult; too many nuances and it was awkward around his accent. He hasn't tried any other south east Asian languages other than that. Chinese and Korean were nightmares to begin with but Japanese was somewhat tolerable.

In other words, he knows a  _bit_  of it and he was pretty sure that Yuuri had just mentioned 'first' but he can't really pinpoint the rest. He doesn't need to.

"My, my..." Viktor breathes and Yuuri seems to be blushing even further, his whole face going red, right down to his neck and the tips of his ears. Viktor lets out a laugh and brings his hands to reach up to cup Yuuri's face.

"I'm so honoured..." Viktor feels over the fucking moon, that's what. He's ready to make this man feel so fucking special, offering to lasso the moon would look like a shit gesture in comparison. 

"C-Can we not make a big deal out of it?" Yuuri pleads. Viktor laughs again and starts to pepper his face with kisses; one on the nose, one for each cheek, one for each of his eyes, one on his forehead before Yuuri gets impatient and brings his hands to the back of Viktor's head and neck to pull him into a deep kiss, his tongue running down Viktor's bottom lip until he parts his mouth to give Yuuri access to his mouth. When they pull away, there was a slight trail of saliva that ran down the corner of his mouth and down to his jawline. 

"How long will you be here?" Viktor asks, apropos of nothing. 

"Tomorrow's my last day." Yuuri replies. He mentions that he's on Spring Break from college and that he was here with friends. "They were supposed to meet me at the bar but they got caught up in the beauty of La Boca to remember that I existed." He rolls his eyes for emphasis but doesn't look angry or bitter about it. 

"Well," Viktor taps his index finger on Yuuri's nose and smiles cheekily at him. "I'm glad that your friends stood you up. Otherwise, who would I share this hotel room with?"

"Maybe that guy whom you intimidated earlier at the bar?" He teases and Viktor ignores that so he can straighten up and grab the handheld shower-head. He turns on the tap, only realizing forgot to set the temperature when Yuuri exclaims something in  _cold_  in Japanese and tries to block the water with his arms, allowing for the water jets to bounce from Yuuri's skin and promptly spray Viktor with almost icy cold water, earning a yelp from him as well. 

It took them a while to return to the bedroom as round two (three and four) took place on all the surfaces of the bathroom.

The neighbours in the next room didn't appreciate their noises at all. 

* * *

Viktor woke up to an empty bed the next morning. He proceeded to be disappointed for a few moments until he spots a dining cart at the foot of the bed. He scrambles to his feet and inspects the contents of the tray. The selection of food was big; definitely the deluxe continental breakfast option on the room service menu. Right beside the glass of orange juice was a long-stemmed blue rose with a note tied to it. It held a cellphone number at the front and then a hastily written excuse and apology at the back of it. Viktor smiles, plops down on the foot of the bed and begins to munch on a blueberry danish and savours the taste of it. 

* * *

"I hate you." Christophe Giacometti - AKA, the partner he ditched last night - immediately declares upon seeing Viktor, swaggering down the aisle as he makes his way towards Chris's side. He was still holding the rose, though he had kept the note in his wallet for safe keeping, and Chris was eyeing the flower warily. 

"Good morning to you too, Chris." Viktor sing-songs. "How was the tour of the city without me?"

"I can't believe you  _ditched me_." Chris whines, ignoring Viktor's inquiry. 

"Well, I told you that I just wanted to drink at the hotel lounge but no, you really wanted to stay here in Puerto Madero and scope out the nightlife here." Viktor shrugs his shoulders. Chris gazes at him, eyes narrowed and was probably trying to decipher Viktor's every move. 

Or just look at the bruises on Viktor's neck which he wasn't even bothering to hide. 

"You got ass, didn't you? Last night." The Swiss-man accuses and Viktor beams in response. 

"And what a fine ass it was." Viktor sighs dreamily and Chris groans. 

"Ah, Chris, I think I'm in love." Viktor breathes, clutching the flower to his chest and sighing softly again. 

Chris rolls his eyes. "You, my friend, say that every single time and yet you're still not hitched." Chris makes it a point to wave about the hand that held his golden wedding band around his ring finger but Viktor effectively ignores him by twirling around the rose stem and promptly bringing the bud to his nose, closing his eyes as he tried to remember Yuuri Katsuki - his smirk, his smile, his blushing face, his wet lashes and open mouth, his laboured breathing - but his thoughts were broken when Chris starts clicking his fingers impatiently at Viktor's face, asking for him to focus. 

Chris sighs and then mutters something in French. Viktor's jovial smile freezes and shifts to a much colder one. "Where?"

"Three o' clock. By the docks. They're boarding the  _Galaxy_."

Viktor lets out a low whistle when he sees the size of the yacht. Burgess motors. Built and manufactured by Benetti. Price ranges at around twenty-five million euros. He'd like to cruise around a bad boy like that with Yuuri one day. They can't recreate the titanic, surely, but they can make out at the deck and don't have to worry about icebergs while they're at it. 

Viktor puts his thoughts into the back of his mind, for now. "Well, let's not let them make that voyage." Viktor says as he tucks the rose in the inside pocket of his trench coat, patting the spot when he closes his coat again. At Chris's signal, they make their way to towards the staircase for the pier.

Twenty minutes later, they were back at the sidewalk with the magazine of Viktor's Glock G41 Gen 4 .45 AUTO caliber pistol (with an attached silencer) being five bullets short from when he loaded it earlier that morning and Chris suddenly lugging around a briefcase that definitely looks out of place from his well-put together outfit. They clamber inside Chris's rental car - a Porsche 911 Turbo - and Viktor makes a motion of shrugging off his coat so the can slip off his shoulder holsters and hand them over to Chris, who stuffs them inside the glove compartment since he didn't want to wear them. 

"If they were any cliche, they'd do this kind of exchange at a shady bar." Chris remarks dryly as he stuffs the briefcase underneath the front passenger seat to hide it from view. 

"Well, I suppose on a yacht in Puerto Madero, Buenos Aires is a step up from a dingy pub in Las Vegas." Viktor replies. "Silver lining in all this, I get a number from a tourist whom I hope I can meet today before we leave."

"Who is this person anyway?"

"Yuuri." Viktor immediately sighs dreamily again as he breathes out his name. "He's so beautiful, Chris. You'd fall for him too the moment you saw him."

"Naked or not?" Chris snorts. 

"Either way." Viktor says promptly. "Do you think I can stay here until he leaves?"

"Oh God, you  _are_  far gone. I would have thought that you'd miss your dog more." Chris remarks and Viktor's shoulders slump. He pouts at Chris until he has this 'eureka' look on his face and he asks,

"What time is our flight back?"

Chris looks thoughtful for a moment before he answers, "Tomorrow at the crack of dawn. Four AM, if you need clarifying. And we need to be there two hours prior to boarding time to check in."

Viktor tunes out most of that Chris was saying as he stopped listening at the mention of tomorrow which translates to not today. Viktor grins. "Then...?"

Chris peers at him from the driver's seat, rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time already but his smile was fond and understanding, as well as exasperated. "Fine, fine. Have your whirlwind "romance" but I want bottle of Dom Pérignon for this as soon as we get back home." He promptly demands as he waves his hands in a shooing motion. 

Viktor already whipped up his phone from the pocket of his trench coat and left it at the backseat and waved at Chris as he clambered out of the car, shutting it when he presses the device to his ear and immediately gets a response after three rings. 

* * *

They meet at Plaza Dorrego and Viktor was suddenly glad that it was Sunday. He's not happy with the crowd. God, no but because there was a special event every Sunday that starts around ten in the morning and ends at six which was the Argentine Tango exhibition done by professionals as a form of entertainment and advertisement for lessons. 

What he was not happy with, aside from the crowd, was that Yuuri didn't exactly come alone. His college friends who were enamoured by La Boca last night finally showed their faces, all five of them, and they were all gaping at Yuuri then at Viktor then switch back and forth until they could comprehend the situation. Viktor didn't really notice them since his eyes were trailed at Yuuri, who was being clung on by two people - one boy, one girl - and looked very embarrassed about it. 

Yuuri today was different from Yuuri last night but that doesn't make him any less beautiful. Fuck. He looked absolutely fucking adorable instead. His fringe fell messily over his forehead again, though  it was looking less messed up from sex, at the very least. His eyes were now framed with blue, half-rimmed glasses. He wore a blue-stripped, three-fourth sleeved boat-neck shirt with dark, skinny jeans and then converse sneakers. His expression was that of embarrassment and what Viktor hoped to be happiness all rolled into one complicated emotion. 

"Aren't you going to introduce us to him, Yuuri?" The one guy clinging to Yuuri's arm drawls, his voice definitely teasing. The man had naturally brown skin, seemed to be built the same as Yuuri's physique as well as stood at the same height as he did. His black eyes trailed to Viktor's form and he delivers him a wink before he turns his attention back to Yuuri and starts tugging at his arm again, insisting on the introduction. Yuuri's cheeks flushed and he tried to wiggle his arms free of the hold that the two people had of him. 

"Yes. Please. Enlighten us." The girl says, equally amused. She had almost the same distinct accent as Yuuri, meaning that she was Japanese too. She had light brown hair that she kept in a high ponytail. She had a slightly curvier body or maybe that was just the empire waist dress giving her the silhouette of one. Yuuri exclaims something in Japanese and they laugh and let go of his arms so Yuuri can finally escape their clutches and step towards Viktor to stand by his side. 

"Uh, this is... Viktor Nikiforov." Yuuri says, gesturing to Viktor with one shaky hand. He had his gaze downcast and glued to a particular spot on the concrete pavement. 

"Really? No other titles? How about something apropos like, the one who deflowered-"

"Who the hell even says that!" Yuuri exclaims and Viktor had to hide his laughter behind his hand while the rest of Yuuri's friends let out guffaws that one was practically keeling over. Yuuri covered his face and Viktor manages to pull himself together and wrap one of his arms around Yuuri's waist to pull him close. 

"Hi, Yuuri's friends." Viktor says genially, smiles and all, and it sends all but the two people who clung to Yuuri earlier into swooning fits. 

"I'm Phichit Chulanont." The brown-skinned man says, beaming, and offers up a hand to shake which Viktor takes. The other man's grip is strong (or maybe stronger than necessary) but he lets go pretty easily. "I'm Yuuri's roommate, rink mate and best friend."

"And I'm Yuuko Nishigori." The girl holds up a hand too and Viktor shakes it. She has a delicate, soft touch but her grip also had a bit more force than was truly necessary. Maybe this their version of shovel talk, the Russian man muses.

"Yuuri's childhood friend, rink mate and second best friend." She adds. "I've got all the baby pictures you need of Yuuri if you ever want them."

"Oh, I'll make note of that." Viktor beams and Yuuri lets out a groan and tries to escape Viktor's grasp but the man simply laughs and envelops him in a hug instead. 

The rest of the introductions were made and they decided to sit down for brunch at a nearby cafe. Viktor keeps Yuuri by his side and the man fidgets and blushes but doesn't exactly run away. Maybe this was the famous Japanese reticence that he hears so much about? 

He learns more about Yuuri from the helpful information that his friends were providing them; information that he could have easily lifted from Yuuri last night but hormones and frustrated libidos needed to be addressed last night so Viktor wasn't exactly in the right mind to ask all those questions. 

Yuuri was twenty one (he knew  _that_  last night), studying on a scholarship at the University of Connecticut-Stamford, Majoring in Economics and plays the piano or ice skates during his free time when he's not, in Phichit's own words, "Wallowing in the pit of despair and misery when slumped with school work" or hanging out with his friends and works part-time as an instructor at the skating rink to children and novices.

Viktor was finding Yuuri more and more interesting with each bit of information that he learns about him and wants to learn _more_. Preferably from Yuuri, the next time around.

"Tell us about yourself too." Phichit exclaims. Viktor looks contemplatively for a minute, as if deep in thought as to what he should say because really, what the hell was he supposed to say? The bare minimum should probably be fine, he muses. Viktor tells them that he grew up in Saint Petersburg, Russia, graduated with honours on his Foreign Languages degree at the State University of his city, currently resides in Manhattan, New York with a poodle named Makkachin and no one else and was four years older than Yuuri. When asked about his job, he blithely tells them that it was a boring desk job and was currently in the middle of playing hooky from work, taking an unpaid leave so he can be here in Buenos Aires. 

He can't exactly say that he was here in the capital of Argentina to retrieve a briefcase with fifty-million euros in cash, as well as the codes to bank accounts to a bank in Zurich, stashed inside and kill the morons who tried to make a getaway with it, as were their orders at the company he works at. 

They ate it up pretty well as they did with their food. The music begins to play and all attention seemed to be pointed now at the centre of the plaza square as a man dressed in a fine waistcoat and slacks ensemble was beginning to lead a woman scantily clad in a high-slit dress into the first steps of Argentinian Tango. 

"Oh, Yuuri, let's go dance!" Viktor exclaims, taking hold of his hand. Yuuri promptly shook his head in protest. 

Viktor pouts petulantly at him. "Why not? You danced so well last night. To the Paso Doble, in fact. Surely Argentinian Tango is no problem?" He says insistently. His friends somehow found this as a wonder and looks as if they were about to collectively roast him for information on his unprecedented fact but Yuuri somehow thinks that dancing with Viktor was a more appealing option than to be roasted on your apparent dancing skills by your college friends. He slips off his glasses, setting them down on the table and tugged at Viktor's hand, pulling him to the dance floor while his other was sweeping his hair back. 

There was a roar of applause coming from the surrounding audience and their sudden appearance on the cobblestone sidewalk somehow gave others courage to join in on the dancing too. The real performers stopped so they can change the song to cater to the newcomers. 

Yuuri was leading this time when last night, it was all Viktor steering him most of the time. He was good, though; they were better than the actual performers. 

"So your dancing skills don't just show up from liquid courage?" Viktor teases and Yuuri shrugs his shoulders, a coy smile playing at his lips. He spins Viktor before dipping him low and the crowd goes wild, it was almost deafening. Thank fuck that Buenos Aires is so LGBT friendly. Yuuri brings him back upright and they begin a more intricate and intimate routine than the others were doing. 

"Manhattan is close to Connecticut." Viktor blurts out before he can stop himself. He was sure that his Audi can take him from Manhattan to Stamford in Fairfield County, Connecticut in less than an hour, if traffic was favourable. "Can we get coffee sometimes?" he offers, sounding hopeful. 

Yuuri freezes for a moment and then his mouth splits into an ethereal smile that would make angels fucking cry and he starts to laugh, just as he was spinning Viktor again and Chris really deserves that bottle of Dom now because Viktor is definitely far, far gone. 

"The sequence of events here is kind of out of whack." He muses, voice trailing away. But, he meets Viktor's gaze again when he replies, "But sure. Coffee would be nice."

At the diminuendo of the music before it reaches the final beats, Viktor straightens up and lifts Yuuri so that his body was parallel to the ground, who instinctively kicks his leg up and keeps it straight as Viktor spins them around - to the raucous applause and wolf-whistles of the crowd yet again - and brings him down for the finals steps that Viktor takes the lead of this time.

At their final pose, Viktor has his arms wrapped around Yuuri's slim waist while Yuuri's arm was draped over Viktor's shoulder and the other was holding at his bicep. The angle was perfect enough to replicate the famous V-Day Kiss of New York City's Times Square only this time, as Viktor would read off from the caption of Phichit's Instagram post later, it was known as the "The (Recreation of) the V-Day Kiss at the Plaza Dorrego, Buenos Aires." 

As soon as Viktor's IG account,  **v-nikiforov** , was tagged,  **christophe-gc**  liked the post and commented, 

"Congratulations. I'd like my Dom Pérignon to be as old as they come, thanks."

* * *

**MEIXIU**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For updates, feel free to check my [Tumblr.](https://meixiu-writes.tumblr.com/)


	2. The Honey Trap Known as Eros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overworked college student on a full-ride scholarship was a perfect cover-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Euphemisms found here http://thoughtcatalog.com/jim-goad/2014/12/400-euphemisms-for-sexual-intercourse/

Yuuri Katsuki was chewing on the tip of his ballpoint pen, starting at the words that was being displayed on the electronic whiteboard and jots down anything he finds important unto his notebook before he addresses the incessant vibrating of his phone. Feeling very much like a high school teenager, he lowers his phone to his lap and looks at the message on the screen. 

> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:23 AM]** : Yuuuuuuuriiiiiiii! I'm free this weekend so can we please, please meet up? （*´▽｀*）
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:24 AM]:** I'll pick you up, of course! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:25 AM]:** We can stay at my apartment! You'll finally meet precious Makkachin! (/^▽^)/
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:26 AM]:** Yuuri?
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:28 AM]:** YUUUUURIIIIIIIIII ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:29 AM]:** ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚

Yuuri somewhat regrets introducing his boyfriend to the wonders of Japanese emoticons and promptly rolls his eyes while tying to suppress a laugh that was threatening to escape his mouth with his free hand. The bell promptly rang, indicating that it was the end of his nine to ten thirty class for the morning and it was just the waiting game for his one thirty class next. 

> **You [10:30 AM]:** I get it. Oh my God. I was in class. 
> 
> **You [10:31 AM]:** You are free to talk to me from now until one in the afternoon. 
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:32 AM]:** But I want to talk to you foreverrrrrr ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡
> 
> **You [10:33 AM]:**  I'll be damned if I let myself be distracted by you during my major class. 

Yuuri chuckles at the sudden onslaught of whines and exclamations of his name and promptly shoves his phone down to the pocket of his denim jeans, gets to his feet and picks up his things off the desk and stuffs them orderly back into his bag pack. He hears his name being called from a few row of desks away and sees Phichit waving incessantly at him, beckoning him to come closer. Yuuri sighs but walks up to Phichit's desk where he starts to wave his phone in front of Yuuri's face that Yuuri took a step back to avoid the light glaring directly into his eyes. 

"What is it, Phichit?" Yuuri asks warily as he blinks the stars from his eyes. 

"Stop sexting your hot-ass boyfriend for a minute and look at this for a minute!" He exclaims and shoves the phone back into Yuuri's face. He gets the hint, takes it and peers at the phone screen. His wary expression changes and he was glad that they were alone in the classroom. 

Yuuri sighs. "Couldn't you have told me this at the dorms?"

"Sorry but I have a life to live and I'm going to be late for my next class so I needed to show you now." Phichit says loftily. His dark eyes flickered to peer at Yuuri, his smile business-like, given the situation. "It's monday so the deadline is on Friday. No witnesses, if possible."

"Good. That can be arranged." Yuuri remarks dully as he adjusts the shoulder straps of his bag pack. "I'm going to be gone for the weekend and I don't want to have to work during that precious time."He decides to add. 

He ought to have not to, now that he realizes, considering the current company he was faced with. Phichit's eyes immediately glinted with interest. "Ohhh, finally meeting Vicky after two weeks of just non-stop sexting?" Phichit wiggles his eyebrows as he teases. Yuuri glares, a blush creeping up to his cheeks. Damn his traitorous blood vessels. 

And no, he and Viktor were not sexting, as much as Phichit wishes for that to be reality. Viktor sent him the occasional photo of various things and occasions throughout his day, in the two weeks they haven't seen each other since the plane ride home, and Yuuri responds in kind with relatively more mundane shots of his homework or his friends getting up to some weird shit that friends do when they get together.  

Phichit sighs and leaned against a nearby desk to pretend to have a dramatic swooning fit. "Who would have thought that on our second to the last day in Buenos Aires, our precious _virginal_ cinnamon roll, Yuuri Katsuki, would get himself caught in a whirlwind romance with such a _hot_ and sexy Russian guy and lose his V-card one the same night?" Phichit monologues, ending his tirade with a deep sigh. "Oh, to be so young." 

"Who the hell even says V-card?" Yuuri says through gritted teeth. "And you're the same age as me!"

Phichit sees that as a challenge and not as the threat that Yuuri intended for it to be. "Boo, you whore. Want me to get more creative?" He says blithely and then clears his throat and says loudly, "You did the horizontal tango? Had your first Adult Naptime? Enjoyed your first Bedroom Rodeo? Experienced Chesterfield rugby for the first time? HAD SEX FOR THE FIR-"

Yuuri pulls Phichit in close, not for a hug, but to forcibly turn him around to put him in a sleeper hold. His whole face was glowing red and his neck felt uncomfortably hot and Phichit was begging for mercy not even five seconds into it. Someone poked their head through the door to see the commotion and promptly high tailed their unwanted ass out of there. Phichit was cackling when he finally escaped Yuuri's slackened hold and said, when he was nearer to the door, 

"Don't think I don't know that you two aren't part of the mile high club on the return flight home, you slut!" He happily exclaims before bolting out of the door before Yuuri could throw his bag pack at Phichit's direction. 

* * *

"Ah, so he heard us." Viktor singsongs over on the other line.

"I think the whole plane heard us, Viktor." Yuuri groans, running his hand over his face as he leans his back against the headboard of his dorm room bed. 

"I'm sorry." He didn't sound sorry at all but he sounded absolutely pleased with the idea. His tone went low and husky as he continues on to say, "But imagine my surprise that you were also on the same flight and I got very, very lonely halfway into the flight..."

"...Y-You could have watched the in-flight movie..." Yuuri did but he found it boring. Honestly, getting fucked inside the tiny bathroom at forty-thousand feet in the air was more exciting than watching Fantastic Four - the remake and was the highlight of the entire twelve hour flight from Ministro Pistarini International Airport to John F. Kennedy International Airport. Not that Yuuri will say that aloud. There wasn't enough Gods in Shintoism and Hinduism combined to pray to in helping him snap out of whatever mortified state he'll be stuck in should he ever voice that aloud. 

"And _you"_ He says with emphasis. "-Could have declined my offer." Viktor says, his voice guttural that it sent shivers down Yuuri's spine. Yuuri can practically hear the man wink and he has to bring a pillow to cover his face, as if Viktor would be able to see his red-as-a-tomato face at the moment, even from thirty-nine thousand miles away.

Yuuri hears a laugh on the other line; so casual and carefree that he'd like to hear more of it in person rather than through the phone. He must have imagined Yuuri's reaction or maybe managed to hear his movements and put two and two together from that alone.

"A-Anyways," Yuuri clears his throat. "This weekend. When are you picking me up?"

"Hm," Viktor hums in contemplation. Yuuri already did the math in his head since he was rather good at that and calculated the average travel time from Manhattan city proper to Stamford to be around an hour at least, if Viktor doesn't hit the road during peak hours of traffic. Yuuri doesn't even know where the man specifically lives at so he wasn't sure how he can calculate the travel time from point A to point B at a more precise manner.

"I'll be there at around nine so we can be at Manhattan before eleven." Viktor finally answers, a smile in his voice. "Have you ever been to Manhattan before? You know, other than just for travels and really got to exploring the city?"

Yuuri shook his head and then realized that Viktor couldn't see him. Oh, he's been to Manhattan before. Countless times, even but Yuuri has not seen the sights that Manhattan has to offer apart from passing glances of it on his way to the target. At best, he once took down a target at Shakespeare Garden - which was a famous location within Central Park - so that was something, he supposes. 

"No." Yuuri promptly replies. "You have me for the whole weekend so better take me sightseeing."

Viktor chuckles and then exclaims happily, "Leave it to me!"

Yuuri smiles, wishing that he could see Viktor's face. He noted in Buenos Aires that Viktor had a tendency to wear this goofy, heart-shaped smile whenever he smiles brightly and Yuuri's heart flutters at the idea that it was only towards him that he makes that face for. 

"Yeah. I'm counting on you." He says softly. He can't wait for the weekend. 

* * *

It was night now. Classes were over and the dormitory hall was buzzing with the chatter of residents chatting out in the hallway or inside the comfort of their own dorm rooms. Yuuri looks at his laptop screen and leans back against the backrest of his desk chair, moving his arms to cross against his chest as he peers at the information that was displayed on the screen. As always, Guang-Hong "The Tech Genius" Ji was amazing at gathering data. Yuuri supposes this kind of stunt was child's play for a genius who graduated from Massachusetts Institute of Technology at fifteen years old (should have been at fourteen, had he not gotten sick for too long that he had to take time off school to recover). Guang-Hong managed to get facts that really wouldn't be found anywhere else or even listed on the target's social media accounts. 

Yuuri sighs and reads the list of known interests yet again, frowning when he finally agrees that what he is reading is actually reality. 

Phichit exits the dorm room bathroom, clad in last night's sleepwear with a towel wrapped around his head like a turban and saunters over to peer at Yuuri's work from over Yuuri's shoulder. He smirks at the highlighted words on the screen. 

"This was your mission, wasn't it?" Yuuri accuses in a deadpan tone. "That's why you showed it to me as early as today." Phichit blithely waves his hand about, muttering _details, details_ and and then pokes at the space between Yuuri's brows, which were currently furrowed and started rubbing at the surface of skin until Yuuri's face muscles relaxed again. 

"It was but I'm pretty sure you fit his interests more." Phichit drawls as he runs down his index finger from Yuuri's brows along the line of his nose and stops at the tip. "After all, I am not bespectacled nor am I shy, meek and kind of reserved."

Yuuri snorts and swats Phichit's hand away. "You're obnoxious." 

"And yet, you still love me!" Phichit giggles and then walks towards his bed and plops down on the edge so he can take off the turban and dry his hair properly with the wrinkled towel. "Honestly, you can do that old coffee shop tactic where you pretend to bump into him, flash that doe eyed look of yours as you apologize profusely and bring out the purest cinnamon roll act that your non-virgin ass can muster until Friday where you show him how freaky you can get now that your cherry has been popped."

Yuuri groans and rolls his eyes skywards, knocking his head back so he can stare at the ceiling, giving it a disgusted look while picturing Phichit's face. "Will the subject of my virginity be this big of a deal for a long time?"

Phichit shrugs. "Yeah. Give or take... about a week." 

"Why?" Yuuri demands. 

"Because you have been a virginal cinnamon roll since we met and to think that you lost it on vacation! And to a _hot_ dude!" Phichit wails and falls back on the bed as he lets out a laugh at Yuuri's flustered and frustrated expression. 

His phone chimed the message tone and Yuuri immediately straightens up to pick up his phone but he frowns in disappointment when he sees that it wasn't from Viktor but from one of his classmates who was asking if he had notes from their one to three afternoon class. He doesn't bother to reply. 

"I can feel the _thirst_ from all the way over here!" Phichit loudly exclaims and Yuuri lobs his copy of Thomas Sowell's  _Basic Economics: A Citizen's Guide to the Economy_ but Phichit easily catches it between his hands and tosses it casually aside so he can pick up his phone from underneath his pillow and probably tell Yuuko or whomever else was so keen on teasing Yuuri about his personal life about the current situation at hand. 

* * *

Yuuri didn't have classes on Tuesday morning (the teacher cancelled class on the account of her flu) so Yuuri was free to scope out the target's preferred location, finding him immediately entering _Cafe Lorca_ down at Bedford St. The target was easy enough to spot that he might as well have painted a target on his back. In a small-time coffee shop with a price range on items not even exceeding ten dollars, the target sticks out like a sore thumb with the number of designer items he was sporting. Yuuri had to admit, however, that only the trained eye can notice most of the items like his Tomas Maier wool-blend, double-breasted pea coat or his Valentino black slim-fit trousers but the Burberry scarf around his neck on a relatively cool day on the last week of March was the biggest dead giveaway. 

Yuuri tries to recall the necessary details about the target as they were currently waiting for their order at the counter. The twenty-three year old was the current heir to a multi-million dollar company that was on the verge of bankruptcy and he had about a five million on life insurance to his name. He's adored by his mother, despised by his father and was the lover to someone who was basically another Yuuri Katsuki but with a different name and form until their massive falling out before Valentine's Day last month and he has been a mopey, dejected sap ever since. He frequents this particular coffee shop to search for the same type of person who dumped his dramatic ass last month and Yuuri just so happens to fit that mould.

Phichit was right in handing over this assignment to him that it was almost scary how coincidental it all is. 

Yuuri sighs and takes one final sip of his coffee, finishing it just as the target was handing over his Black American Express credit card instead of handing over money like a decent person and was receiving it back from the cashier who did not look pleased with the method of transaction. Yuuri got his bag, got to his feet and walked towards the counter. He pretends to be sifting through the contents of his bag and collides against the target. The coffee splashes the both of them but the target gets the most damage. 

"I'm so sorry!" Yuuri exclaims, putting on a face expressing deep horror and starts to wave his arms about frantically. "I-I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going and I-" Yuuri continues to prattle on with his hysterical string of apologies while the target just gapes at him with an awed and dumbstruck look on his face. Perfect. 

"N-No..." He replied meekly after managing to gather up his thoughts and find his voice again, laughing awkwardly as he puts up his hands as if surrendering. "No harm done. It's really okay." 

"P-Please, let me pay for the dry cleaning! And," Yuuri turns his head from side to side, ever the picture of a nervous wreck, and stammers out his offer to buy him coffee again since the one he just ordered was all over them and the floor. 

"N-No, really...!" The target scrambled to their feet, leaving Yuuri kneeling on the floor but not for long. They held up a hand, offering it to Yuuri to pull him back to his feet which Yuuri, as per character, takes it with shaking hands. 

Now upright, Yuuri hastily pulls his hand away and starts wringing his hands together and says fervently, "I'm really sorry!" Yuuri bows low and the man gets even more flustered and keeps on giving Yuuri reassurances. One of the staff of the cafe comes over to wipe off their mess and they make their way to the bathroom to clean up up whatever can be cleaned up off their clothing. 

Not even ten minutes later, Yuuri exits the cafe with his number in his pocket and with the target trailing him from behind. He sheepishly asks if Yuuri, whom he knows under the alias of "Taro Yamada", has free time tomorrow and Yuuri meekly replies that he'll be free at five to which dinner was immediately offered, retracted but then offered again with the notion that only if Yuuri wanted to. Yuuri shuffles his feet awkwardly and then says he'll think about it before sprinting away, yelling out a hasty goodbye over his shoulder before he picks up speed and turns a corner and stops dead at his heels. 

Yuuri had to let out a groan. He can't believe that this kind of tactic was already so formulaic that Phichit has it down to a T.

* * *

> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:23 AM]:** You know what's more boring than Mondays? Tuesdays. 
> 
> **You [10:24 AM]:** I don't know what kind of punchline is there to that. 
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:25 AM]:** There are none. I'm just literally bored. 
> 
> **You [10:26 AM]:** Geez. What are you even doing right now? 
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:27 AM]:** Not you, sadly.
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:28 AM]:** Just boring office work. Seriously, desk work is not fun at all. 
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:29 AM]:** If you were here, we'd make it fun. ;)
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:33 AM]:** Yuuri?
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:34 AM]:** YuuuRI~??
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:35 AM]:** YUUUUURIIIIIIIIII!!! ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚

Yuuri steps out of the shower, wiped his hands with his towel before taking hold of his smartphone and peers at the number of messages. Yuuri still wonders how this man was supposed to be four years older than him but he's not mad. Really, he finds it adorable and endearing instead. But, Yuuri still smelled like caramel macchiato and he didn't want it to stick to his hair. Swallowing his embarrassment, he taps on this camera icon of his screen and hastily look a photo of himself from waist down and up before sending it to Viktor and then added a bit of context for good measure. 

> **You [10:40 AM]:** [ image sent ] 
> 
> **You [10:41 AM]:** I am or was in the shower, you ass. 
> 
> **You [10:42 AM]:** Couldn't you wait for just a few more minutes?
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [10:45 AM]:** YUURIII SHOWER WITH MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Yuuri chuckles and sets down the phone back on top of the bathroom counter and steps back inside of the shower, letting the lukewarm water rid him of any coffee residue that stuck to his skin and hair. Yuuri closes his eyes for a moment and then promptly shook his head, admonishing himself that instead of fantasizing in reliving their time in the shower at the hotel back in Buenos Aires, he should come up with ways to disarm the target before the weekend. 

He'll say no to dinner tomorrow, he decides. Yuuri has college as an excuse, he reasons, and there was a better opportunity for him to strike on a Friday night. The man sees Yuuri as a shy, meek and awkward college student. The size of Yuuri's bag from earlier indicated that he was busy and overworked and what better way to wind down from a grueling, hard week of college course work than with a few drinks with a new friend who knows the area better than a foreigner like Yuuri does?

And, judging from the man's reactions; if the man was so enamoured with him, he'd lap up all of Yuuri's excuses until the time when they do meet and it's all good from there. 

"Yuuuuuuriiiiiii-" He hears Phichit from the bedroom, meaning he was back from his class. "Your boyfriend is asking for a video of you in the shower!" Yuuri was sure that this constant teasing will not last just a week but possibly for the duration of his and Phichit's tenure here as dormers. 

Yuuri freezes for a moment before he remembers that he locked the door and Phichit's tell-all groan of disappointment from the other side of the door says that he was right. He suppresses a pleased smile that threatens to form at his lips and then says, trying to sound stubborn.

"Tell him he can have a damn show in the weekend." And Phichit was calling _him_ thirsty? Please. 

Not that Yuuri minded, of course. Phichit - the ever-knowing best friend to Yuuri - laughs heartily as if he can see Yuuri's thoughts easily. 

* * *

The week can't roll by quickly enough for Yuuri. He wants Friday over and done with so he can get this needy sod (not Viktor) to stop chasing his ass. Oh, the target was enamoured with Yuuri, alright, which is all well and good for the plan that he has for him. The amount of text messages he gets from the man was proportionate to the level of thirst he has for Yuuri, as Phichit had so eloquently put in.

The man in question, on the other hand, was not pleased with it. Yuuri knows what this man is doing and he sort of pities him for it. The target was trying to chase a fantasy of reliving some magic he had with the guy who dumped his ass before Valentine's Day; Yuuri knows these types all too well.

Yuuri pulls out the burner phone from his bag pack and gazes impassively at the text message that was sent to him. 

"Whoa, you got a new phone, Katsuki?" A seatmate remarks as soon as they sat down on the desk beside him. Yuuri puts on a sheepish look and stammers out an excuse that he dropped his phone and the screen had cracked, which was apparently believable to his seatmate as they then remark that it was typical of Yuuri to do so. Yuuri then puts on a slightly offended look and they retracted their statement immediately with an onslaught of apologies. 

"N-No, it's okay. It happens a lot..." Yuuri amends and they seemed to have calmed down after that. Their attention immediately shifted when they were joined by friends, leaving Yuuri to his own devices again. He brings his attention back to the phone to type out the text. 

Yuuri drowns out the rest of the class and finds himself back in his dorm room at lunch hour with a bag of take-out from one of the food stalls at the school's cafeteria. He sets it down on the low coffee table at the centre of the room before sauntering to his bed and flopping unto his stomach before flipping over to lie on his back instead. 

He closes his eyes and just stays silent with only the quiet buzz of chatter coming from the other rooms and out in the hallway and his breathing cutting through the relative silence. He opens his eyes when Yuuri's phone starts to chime a specified ringtone for a certain someone he knows and Yuuri feels that this day just got a lot better. He sits up, grabs his bag and takes out his actual smartphone and takes the call, pressing the device against his ear before bringing himself back down to lie on his pillow to get comfortable. 

"Hi, Yuuri!" Viktor's tone was cheerful and Yuuri imagines him wearing his heart-shaped smile again. "Quick question, what do you like to eat?"

"Food." Yuuri deadpans on reflex and Viktor whines. Yuuri pulls his face away to chuckle out of Viktor's earshot and then brought the phone back to his ear, "Japanese food. Katsudon to be precise." he says fondly. At Viktor's inquiry, he explains it further and it was met with enthusiasm. 

"Oh! Alright, alright. I'll look up a recipe." Viktor says and there was the noise of paperwork being shuffled around, which Yuuri can see him searching for a pen or some scratch paper to note this down. "I want to make it for you for this weekend." he informs Yuuri. "I'm guessing it's your favourite so I'll have to try my best!"

Yuuri blushes slightly pink. "...You're really trying to please me, aren't you?" He jokes lightly. 

"I want you to feel welcomed." Viktor says softly but with conviction and Yuuri can feel the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Why? 

"...The effect would have been better if you hadn't told me now." He mutters.

"Aw, Yuuri, are you embarrassed?" Viktor singsongs jovially and Yuuri snorts, wanting to say no but it was suddenly out of his vocabulary range, which was surprising as Yuuri had an extensive vocabulary. Viktor sighs but it sounds less exasperated and tired and more fond. 

"Is this the famous Japanese reticence I keep on hearing about?" The Russian man remarks and Yuuri lets out a laugh. 

"I doubt my actions represent the collective population of one hundred twenty seven million people." He retorts. Yuuri sits up and moves to sit on the bed's edge. Maybe the butterflies could be quelled with food, he reasons. He sinks down to the floor, listening to Viktor prattle his response to Yuuri's answer while he unpacks his lunch. 

"Are you eating? Wait, was I disturbing you?" He must have heard the rustling of the cellophane bag. 

"No... I'm just starting." Yuuri answers. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah. I'm actually in the middle of lunch and am effectively annoying my best friend right here by talking to you instead of finishing my pasta." 

Yuuri laughs. "Oh, teach me your ways on how to annoy best friends, _please_. Mine is a particularly hard case."

Viktor's list of advice have already been tried and tested, with unsatisfactory results, but Yuuri doesn't mention this and just listened to his voice as he ate his food. 

* * *

Friday finally arrives. Yuuri looks at himself in the mirror, meeting his own impassive gaze that reflected back at him. He's dressed up for his night out, but not too much, given the occasion. Yuuri wants to come across as someone who is interested and willing to dress-up; an upgrade for sure from the drab clothing that he wore on their first meeting. That's the impression he was trying to get anyways. He was wearing a striped V-neck shirt with burgundy casual blazer over it, dark denim jeans and dark brown, faux-leather mid-calf flat boots. Yuuko and Phichit were in the room and they nodded in approval. 

For all the training that Yuuri had on spotting true designer from off-the-rack knock offs and the average machine manufactured clothing, he cannot coordinate for the life of him and therefore needed the fashion expertise of Phichit Chulanont and Yuuko Nishigori to help him pick out his clothes, especially when he was trying to be dressy but not go stucco-standard with a dress shirt and slacks ensemble.  

"Aren't the boots kind of a bit much?" Yuuri remarks, turning away from his reflection to meet his two-person audience. 

Phichit tuts. "You're trying to be a bit dressy." He reasons with a grin. "If we add a gray scarf around your neck and then slick your hair back then your unnecessary makeover is done."

"But we also need to address his chapped lips." Yuuko adds, fishing out a stick of lipbalm from her rather extensive collection of it from her large make-up bag and pushes Yuuri down to sit on the nearest desk chair, which was his, and promptly painted his lips with the chapstick while Phichit busied himself with sifting through his own closet in search for a grey scarf and manages to fish out one. He lobs it over to Yuuko, who catches it with ease. She sets the lipbalm down on the desk and then proceeds to wrap the scarf around Yuuri's neck, making a French knot with the smooth material. 

"Ugh..." Yuuri grunts. "I can't wait until all this is over." he says in Japanese, effectively leaving Phichit out of the conversation. 

"Just think that you're on a date with your boyfriend, Yuuri." Yuuko replies in the same tongue. 

Yuuri gives her a look that he hopes conveys 'are you fucking serious'. Yuuko rolls her eyes. 

"I mean just imagine that you're on a date with _him_ to make it seem more natural." She amends, now back to English. Yuuri sighs but nods in acknowledgement to her suggestion, He supposes imagining being on a date with Viktor was a more appealing thought than being on a date with the target. He just doesn't want any of his dates with Viktor to end the way this night will go. 

"Phichit, hand me the hair wax." Yuuko doesn't look over her shoulder as she draws her arm back, palm open and awaiting for the tub of hairwax to be dropped to her palm. They go about it for another ten minutes until they deem Yuuri "absolutely stunning" and dressed-up to the nines for his night out. Yuuri, not really a religious person, still thanks the collective population of holy deities that every religion worships that he wasn't expected to arrive at the bar they agreed to meet up at until eight. Getting ready with these two was like queuing at the DMV. It was only seven fifteen, granted, but he still needed to be armed and leave the campus. 

He walks over to his closet and kneels on the floor so he could reach down on the very bottom drawer of the cabinet. He presses his index finger at the key hole and the metal retracts like the opening of an iris shutter, revealing a biometric fingerprint scanner. He presses his index finger to it and hears the familiar click and the drawer slides forward a crack so Yuuri can gain access to the items inside. 

Yuuri's arsenal was limited. One pistol - the one he was most fond of - was a  SIG Sauer P220 Match Elite, which had a 5-inch barrel to maximize the ballistics of the 10mm rounds it carries in the magazine. He was fond of it because of its short reset trigger and locked-breech, short-recoil action. Despite his fondness for it, though, even with a silencer, he couldn't use it tonight. His second gun, a Heckler & Koch HK45 was a semi-automatic pistol, with a barrel length of 4.4 inches and a calibre of .45 ACP, was even less of a viable option. His blades were even more so than his guns as any blood shed will get stuck to him and Yuuri hates it when blood gets into his clothes, unless he was wearing black to mask the colour of red. 

So, he'll try this the old-fashioned way: poison. They were going out drinking after all so it was the best option at the moment. Yuuri had a selection of vials from every poison known to mankind - from samples of Hemlock to Dimethylmercury - but for tonight, given the circumstances and the time limitations that he has, he'll need the strongest poison to aid him tonight. 

"Since we can't disrupt Yuuri's date tonight," Phichit chimes in, probably realizing that they've gone too quiet already despite the racket they were making earlier when dressing Yuuri up. "I say we party here." He gets to his feet and sashays over to his desk where his iPhone speaker dock was and sifts through his music collection until he found the perfect one. He puts on _Pony_ by Ginuwine, of all the fucking things - possibly to piss Yuuri off - and starts to dance to it as if he were in a club, rolling his hips and grinding on air. Yuuko whoops and joins in while Yuuri ignores the two of them and chooses from his arsenal. 

Cyanide was the best option for tonight. It was fast-acting and virtually undetectable. He retrieves his gloves and slips them on before picking up the small bottle that held the lethal dosage and slips it into a hidden pocket within the lining of his blazer. 

"Don't forget to call us, Yuuri!" Yuuko says as she hands him a nano, wireless earpiece that he lodges into his ear canal with ease. He hears a familiar voice speaking on the other line almost immediately, the voice surprisingly clear. 

"Hi, Eros." Guang-Hong Ji chirps on the other line, his Mandarin-Chinese accented English evident in the way he speaks, even with his soft voice. Yuuri suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Eros. Wow. Who came up with these ridiculous code names? His money is on Phichit. 

"Can you hear me just fine?" Guang-Hong asks. 

"Yes, yes, Yuuko." Yuuri answers. "Will you also kiss me goodbye and tell me to come home before my curfew?" He jokes and Yuuko smacks him playfully on the arm. 

"I think you're ready, then. Are you wearing the camera glasses?" Yuuri goes silent and Guang-Hong takes it as his answer. 

"Please wear them tonight. They want to see you do a good job on this to permit your permission to leave this weekend."

"Just call us if you need us to pick you up."

"Yes, yes." He answers to both notions. Yuuri slips off his glasses and hands them over to Yuuko, who was the one closest to him, and fishes out a pair of black-rimmed eyeglasses from a compartment in the drawer and slips them on. The nano-sized small camera was drilled into the plastic frame and was sealed over, leaving only the tiniest peephole for the lens to poke through. Only someone who was looking straight at Yuuri could see the tiny bump that was made from the lens but otherwise, it virtually looked like a normal pair of eyeglasses. 

Yuuri shuts the drawer closed and hears the familiar click of the lock, the key hole returning to its normal state and he gets back to his feet, brushing some dirt that clung to the denim fabric before he fully straightened up and worked out the kinks around his neck and shoulders. 

"Alright, Eros. Are you ready?" Guang-Hong inquires. 

Yuuri plasters on his shyest of smiles as he looks over his shoulder to look at Yuuko and Phichit before bidding them, "I'm off." and exited the bedroom. 

* * *

They agreed to meet at the open air bar at the target's hotel, the J House Greenwich, which was an ultramodern and contemporary hotel down at Putnam Ave, Riverside, which was only a ten minute car drive from Connecticut-Stamford University. He passed through the front doors easily and Yuuri strides purposefully down the direction towards the outdoor bar. Yuuri's entrance was very Cinderella-like, it was almost laughable and surreal at the same time. Eyes were trained on him upon his entrance, some did it out of reflex while others trailed on his form with a curious look on their faces. The target spots him from the loveseat underneath the canopy of twinkle lights and looks at him in the same awed and dumbstruck expression on his face from when they first met. Yuuri puts on his pleased yet nervous smile and walks with only a slight bit of hesitation at each step. 

"Ah, he's so smitten with you, Eros." Guang-Hong supplies casually through the earpiece. Yuuri doesn't react openly to it but acknowledges it as fact upon studying the man's body language and attire. Like Yuuri, he made an effort to dress up, almost going overboard if the dinner jacket that was draped over the armrest was any indication of that. He tries to touch Yuuri as he guides him to his seat, gently putting a hand on the small of Yuuri's back. Yuuri smiles awkwardly on cue as they gesture for him to sit down on the space next to him. 

"I already ordered food, if you don't mind." He said, sounding nervous yet excited at the same time. 

"O-Okay..." Yuuri replied, ever shy and meek. He ordered champagne - Veuve Clicquot, to boot - and a double salmon-roll and lobster mango roll platter for each of them to share. He tried to follow Yuuko's suggestion but found it difficult to follow through. The man was handsy in ways that reminded Yuuri more of the bar creep whom Viktor saved him from rather than Viktor himself. In other words, Yuuri was not finding him interesting in the slightest but he faked the part of someone who does. The target drove most of the conversation between them and Yuuri can tell _why_ he was dumped by his ex in the first place from the way he handles his conversations and the way he physically treats Yuuri now that they were in a more intimate setting. 

He was possessive. He made sure that he had one arm draped across the backrest of the love seat, not touching Yuuri on the shoulders, granted, but the intentions were still there. Considering the attention that Yuuri garnered upon his entrance, this was probably his least subtle way of saying to everyone else in the vicinity to back off. He was controlling. He liked steering the conversations and liked to be the one leading them. He's not interested in anything that Yuuri says about himself but will gladly relay everything fantastic about him, all while trying to be subtle. No wonder he's attracted to the meek types; he can talk for hours without being interrupted. 

Yuuri hates the knee that was brushing up against his or the subtle caresses to any of Yuuri's exposed skin. Yuuri hates the fact that he was wearing gloves. He'd like to dig his nails into his own flesh as he curls his hands into fists, just to give him something to be distracted with so as to not fuck up his plans. It was no wonder the higher ups wanted to see him in action - they wanted to see if this newfound relationship of his would affect his work or not. 

But Yuuri relents. He's not going to fuck this up. He's going to get that permission to leave for this weekend. The night continued on and playful banter was exchanged. The man had a low alcohol tolerance and, contrary to the rest of his comrades back in his country of origin, Yuuri wasn't a lightweight. They finished their food and the champagne bottle was empty by the time the man drunkenly asks Yuuri if he wants to see his hotel room. Yuuri, still under the pretense of a drunk himself, nods and promptly follows him. 

The man was staying at the Ambassador's suite, which was a sprawling room that was befitting of someone with pockets that deep. The man wanted more drinks, as none of the selection in the mini bar was appealing to the man, so they ordered a bottle of Absolut Vodka which was promptly sent to their room. Yuuri receives it at the door but doesn't show his face as he does it. The target was distracted with the TV so Yuuri brings the bottle over to the kitchen, with the excuse of looking for glasses to pour their drinks in. Yuuri takes the bottle of cyanide from the hidden pocket of his blazer lining and pours the contents into the glass he intends to give to the target.

Yuuri doesn't let a droplet go to waste and he stuffs the now empty bottle back into the hidden pocket before taking both his and the target's glasses and shyly makes his way to the living room where he is immediately ushered to sit on the man's lap. He grits his teeth but keeps his shy composure. Yuuri hands him the spiked glass where the target begins to take generous gulps from it, as did Yuuri from his own glass but at a much slower pace. 

"Ah..." The target breathes, satisfaction in his tone. "Man, the sting of this is something else..." His words were a drunken slur and Yuuri pretends to look dazed and looks up at the TV screen. It was currently playing a romantic comedy - Roman Holiday, Yuuri assesses, once he sees Audrey Hepburn on the screen - and giggles on cue at the sight of the kiss. The man's hand was starting to go places that Yuuri would rather not have him go through, like down his thighs and up to his waist, but he was acting a part and he plays it well and good like any other actor on the silver screen. 

He's _not_ going to fuck this up.

He gathers up his thoughts and leans in, "L...Let me go prepare myself..." Yuuri whispers against the shell of the man's ear. The man underneath him shudders and almost kisses Yuuri but the latter man manages to get away, his shyness apparently getting the better of him. Yuuri locks himself in the bathroom and lets out a sigh. HIs gaze meets his reflection on the mirror and they were cold and inexpressive.

It was nothing new. 

"That was quick. It's not even ten thirty yet." said Guang-Hong, whom Yuuri almost forgot was actually listening. He sounds impressed but Yuuri doesn't let it feed his ego or anything. 

"How are they taking it?" Yuuri asks quietly. 

"They're not willing to hand it over just yet until they see the evidence." The tech-genius informs him. 

So Yuuri was supposed to wait for fifteen minutes? He can deal with that, he supposes. Yuuri slips off the scarf around his neck and lets it hang loosely over his shoulders before exiting the bathroom. He hears the tell-tale noise of someone choking and he knows that the cyanide was doing its job already. Yuuri saunters back to living room to find the target writhing on the carpeted floors, clutching at their throat and at their chest, letting out strangled noises as they twitch uncontrollably. 

Yuuri sits down on the couch and gazes at the writhing body before he decides to simply slip off his eyeglasses and set it down on the floor so that Guang-Hong can see the feed more closely when it wasn't from Yuuri's perspective. Meanwhile, Yuuri's gaze returns to the TV screen, even while his myopic vision was making it difficult to actually see the images being displayed clearly. 

Ten minutes later, the twitching, writhing and strangled groans have ceased. The corpse on the floor lay still and silent now, gaze glassy and unseeing as they directed their sights at the ceiling above. Yuuri trudges back to the kitchen to grab the bottle of vodka and took it back to the living room where he splashes the man slightly with the liquid before he sets the bottle on their hand, maneuvering the target's fingers to grip the neck of the bottle. He then trudges off to the mini bar and pulls out more bottles and empties them down the toilet before returning back to the living room and arranged them in a clumsy order, making it seem like he had been drinking himself into a stupor and eventually succumbed to alcohol poisoning. Yuuri checks the pulse, just for good measure, and finds that his fingers couldn't feel the slight thump underneath his touch anymore. All he needed to do now was to make his getaway. 

It was rather easy, Yuuri thinks, as he takes his glasses off the floor and replaces them back to frame his eyes and give him clearer vision. 

"Good work." a new voice speaks in his ear. It was cold and business-like that it could only be one of their higher-ups. "Your leave is approved."

He doesn't say thank you; he felt like they didn't deserved it, and even if they did, he wasn't given the opportunity to say so as Guang-Hong returned on the other line and told him that he needed to exit the building from the back and will shortly be wiping any surveillance footage that was captured of him that linked him at the hotel in the first place. Yuuri nods and follows the specific instructions until he finds himself back outside and into the cool night.

* * *

> **Viktor Nikiforov [8:23 AM]:** I'm on my way! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [8:24 AM]:** I decided to head out early cuz' I can't wait to see you! <3 (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [8:26 AM]:** Yuuuurii~ Are you still asleep? ∑（｡･Д･｡）???
> 
> **.**
> 
> **.**
> 
> **.**
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [9:56 AM]:** I'm here outside the campus! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [9:57 AM]:** Yuuri? (❁°͈▵°͈)
> 
> **Viktor Nikiforov [9:58 AM]:** YUUUURIIIIIIIIII ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

Yuuri blinks groggily at his phone screen, reading the long line of messages, cross-references it with the current time which was ten-ten in the morning, until his brain gets the picture and he starts to freak out. He hastily gets off his bed and to his feet, grabbing a random bag from his closet and shoves whatever articles of clothing was closest to his reach. When he finally realized that he's got like fifteen shirts but no pants or underwear, he throws the rest out of his bag and flings them to his bed and scrambles back to his feet to get underwear from one of the drawers. 

The door bursts open and he yells in surprise, the pair of black boxer briefs in his hands falling to the floor and maybe his dignity out of the fucking window and in the collision course of the second fastest bullet train on earth because that yell was probably heard from two floors down. He turns his head to see who the fuck it could be and finds Viktor Nikiforov standing in all his handsome glory with a crowd of curious onlookers surrounding him.

Maybe it was a prudent time to mention that Yuuri slept in his underwear and the shirt from last night?

"Yuuri has nice legs..." Yuuri manages to catch from the crowd behind Viktor.

There was a crowd. They were in the dorms. Here was Viktor. _Oh._

Yuuri promptly grabs Viktor's arm and pulls him in and apologizes to the crowd before slamming the door shut at their faces, pressing his back against the door as he stares at Viktor with an expression of disbelief so clearly painted across his features. 

"Did you oversleep?" Viktor asks after the beat of silence. He doesn't sound annoyed or angry but the even tone still scared him.

Yuuri manages to nod. "How did you..." His voice trails away. 

"Oh, Phichit met with me at the gate entrance, told me your dormitory hall and room number and here I am." Viktor says blithely. He walks towards Yuuri and cages him between the door and his slightly larger frame. Yuuri can't believe that he lets out an audible gulp. 

"He also said," Viktor whispers as he lowers himself down so that he can whisper against the shell of Yuuri's ear, to which Yuuri responds with a slight shudder. 

"He said w-what?"

Viktor pulls back but instead of a smouldering gaze and a smirk that Yuuri pictures him wearing, he was smiling with that goofy heart-shaped smile of his that makes butterflies flutter around in his stomach again.

"No Chesterfield rugby in the dorm room." Viktor chirps cheerfully. He straightens up, puts a finger against his cheek as he smiles at Yuuri. "I don't know much about rugby, though and you never said that you played it before..."

Chesterfield... rugby? Yuuri processes the words until he remembers his and Phichit's conversation at the classroom that should have ended with Phichit passing out from that sleeper hold Yuuri had him on. He blushes and Viktor lets out a laugh. 

"Ah!" He nods in understanding. "Now I get it."

"We. are. not-" Yuuri begins to say, trying to put emphasis into every word but his words were cut off when Viktor takes the opportunity to take advantage of Yuuri's open mouth. Yuuri's words were lost almost immediately as their tongues clashed against one another. They pulled apart after what seemed like minutes of just kissing, the both of them slightly breathless. 

"P-Please..." Yuuri finds his voice again and tries to put some force into it. He brings himself forwards and pulls Viktor a bit closer to him so he could whisper in his ear, "Not here... We can do whatever when we get to Manhattan. Please."

Viktor lets out a breathy chuckle and pulls Yuuri by the waist into an embrace that Yuuri returns. "Of course. I missed you." He emphasizes his statement by tightening his hold around Yuuri. The latter man melts into the hug pretty easily. 

"...Me too." He breathes and smiles softly. They pull apart eventually when Viktor notices Yuuri's clothes thrown about around the room and offers to help him pack, Yuuri agrees but draws the line at underwear handling. 

The crowd outside collectively groaned at the disappointment of not hearing anything exciting from the other side of the door. 

* * *

**MEIXIU**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously. Chesterfield rugby? What the fuck.
> 
> \--
> 
> For updates, feel free to check my [Tumblr.](https://meixiu-writes.tumblr.com/)


	3. Welcome To Manhattan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When today's plans are cancelled, they decide to plan out for tomorrow instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fervently kowtows* I am so sorry for the delay of this chapter. I was busy with work and ugh. I'm really sorry. 
> 
> \--
> 
> The model for Viktor's [amazing apartment.](http://www.sothebysrealty.com/eng/sales/detail/180-l-1182-h98cqg/soori-high-line-residences-chelsea-new-york-ny-10001) Let's get real, boy has pockets that deep, canon or otherwise. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Warnings: Kitchen Counter/Dining Table Sex, Inappropriate Use of Food (Whipped Cream), Somewhat domestic-like shenanigans and a rather long, drawn-out chapter. 
> 
> \--

Viktor grips the handle of the Glock 17 9mm parabellum semi-automatic handgun with his right hand and extendsthe heel of his non-dominant hand in the exposed portion of his right-handed grip, effectively holding the pistol with both hands. He did this, not because the Glock was heavy, as it only weighed 0.91 kg even when loaded and Viktor had strong forearms and a recorded hand grip strength of 70kg, but it was for safety reasons because of the gun's recoil. 

He looks at the pistol's iron sights, points at the target, tilts the barrel ever so slightly downwards and fires. He was spared from the ringing in his ear due to the Philips Fidelio NC1 noise-deadening headphones he had covering his ears. The bullet goes through the target mannequin's chest, right where the heart is. He fires again, aiming for the forehead, and the bullet goes through the space between where the brows would meet. Viktor keeps firing rounds, alternating between the two spots that would immediately incapacitate an assailant, until the magazine was emptied of its seventeen bullets. 

Humming in satisfaction, he sets down the gun on the table in front of him and pulls off the headphones off his head and the goggles that covered his eyes, his left fringe falling over his left eye.

"Your aim has always been the best." He hears a voice speak from the doorway. Viktor turns his head to find Georgi Popovich entering the threshold, his black hair styled in its usual quiff, a dark suit with a purple undershirt covering his tall, lean, muscular physique and his blue eyes expressing slight awe as he trailed it towards the mannequin at the far end of the shooting range before meeting Viktor's gaze once again. 

Deciding to humour his words, Viktor lets a small smile grace his lips. "Eh, I think my aim was off at the sixth one to the forehead." Viktor responds casually and Georgi is startled with that. Visibly flinches, actually. 

Viktor doesn't really pay much attention to it. "What's up, Georgi?" He asks. 

Georgi was carrying an electronic tablet in his hands, which he offers up to Viktor with slightly trembling hands. Viktor muses that he must have had a bit too many cups of coffee. He can hardly blame the poor man; he's been battling sleepless nights after his own wife, Anya, left him for another man and it all happened while Viktor and Chris were out in Buenos Aires for their assignment. Georgi was...a bit of a romantic so he can't possibly have taken the situation all too well.

Viktor takes a look at the electronic tablet before he shrugged his shoulders and he took it with his hands and tapped at the screen. It opens up immediately to an electronic copy of a form, which Viktor reads with only a vague feeling of interest until he spots the words that made his face break into a bright smile. 

"Y-Your leave has been approved." Georgi informs him, looking slightly unnerved by Viktor's expression. Viktor wouldn't know of this really, since his gaze was fixated only at the table's screen. "...They're rather surprised that you asked for something so sudden when you hardly, no,  _never_  took leaves before."

Viktor doesn't seem to be paying much attention to the weight behind the inflection of Georgi's words.

"Eh. I guess finding new love will do that to you." Viktor singsongs as he reads the memo over and over, the butterflies in his stomach getting more and more excited as he reads the statement of approval again and again until he's satisfied. His mind draws up a picture of Yuuri and he gets so giddy, he's practically bouncing at the balls of his feet. 

Georgi blinks. His brows furrow in confusion. "...Wait, what?"

Viktor shoves the tablet back to Georgi's hands and merrily skips out of the shooting range, nearly colliding against someone who gave him very stunned look as Viktor casually pats them on the shoulder while he apologizes blithely and then goes back to practically skipping as he goes along the hallway. They were sure he heard him  _humming_  a song as he does so. Georgi exits the shooting range only to meet an equally confused co-worker. They were both left to wonder what happened to the man whose cold and blunt disposition was likened to that of winter was now suddenly as bright and happy as a fresh spring day. 

\--

Viktor didn't realize the gravity of the situation of inviting Yuuri to stay at his apartment until Christophe Giacometti, the ever reliable best friend, pointed it out to him during lunch at _Fred's_ , the restaurant atop Barney's where they have been at for the past two hours as Chris was doing a bit of therapeutic shopping after having a small spat with his husband earlier in the day and Viktor was more than happy to come along since he wanted to buy Yuuri something like a gift but hasn't exactly found one yet.

"Viktor, you've never taken anyone back to your apartment before." Chris pointed out. They conversed in French, so as to keep everyone else out of the loop from their private conversation, even if they were at the most secluded table booth that the restaurant offered and there weren't that many people who can actually afford to eat here. 

"I know! Isn't it exciting?" Viktor happily responds, his slight Russian accent not getting in the way of his perfect inflection of his French dialogue. Chris eyes him with a look that Viktor can't exactly pin-point as to what the man was trying to convey. It looked like confusion, exasperation, and amusement all rolled into one complicated expression. 

"Viktor. Don't you realize it?" Chris deadpans. 

"Realize what?" Viktor tilts his head to the side. 

"You." Chris begins after taking a deep breath. "-Are taking someone back to your apartment for the  _first time_  in your entire life. I mean that in a romantic sense since I've been to your place countless times already but this is a first for you to ever bring someone you're dating back to your home."

Viktor blinks, trying to find the meaning behind Chris's nuances. Chris groans this time and decides to explain further.

"Viktor, in the years we've known each other, I know that you have been in  _countless_  relationships and none of them exactly flourished since they lasted about as long as a Kardashian marriage," Viktor snorts in amusement but Chris relents. "And while you say that you liked or even loved some of them, you've never gone this far for them before and I doubt you were even serious with them. And now, here comes this college student you met in Buenos Aires, had one passionate night with him and now you're suddenly  _pining_  over him, applying for leave of absences just to be with them and literally invited him back to your home, which - if I need to remind you - you haven't done with your previous partners before. What is so _special_  about him?"

Viktor drowns out most of what Chris was saying, not because he didn't find it interesting but he was mulling over the first statement that his best friend supplied him with. There was a reason why Viktor never really bought his exes back to his apartment before and his job and what it entails was the biggest reason. His apartment was modelled to hide and store his cache of weaponry that range from small handguns to anti tank rifles; from switchblades to spear point throwing knives. He even has a selection of garrote wires that range from fishing lines to natural filament rope. There were even huge stacks of cash hidden in compartments should he ever be in need of them.

With humans being such curious creatures, Viktor didn't want to risk his partners ever knowing about these secret mechanisms so he never invited them. They, of course, took great offence to that which is one of the reasons why his relationships don't last long since. Plus, his interest in them wanes over time but his interest in Yuuri continues to grow with each passing second that he doesn't see him. 

But now, Yuuri was coming over in a few days to stay with him for the entire duration of his weekend.  Viktor was so excited that he never even remembered his own precautions from before. And then, it hit him hard.  _Holy fucking shit_  - Yuuri could stumble across any one of his hidden compartments and hurt himself and -

Chris looks at him with a slightly unnerved expression on his face and then asks, "Viktor, what are you thinking right now?"

"Chris, what if Yuuri gets  _hurt!?_ His best friends are going to fucking kill me-" Viktor panics. He was talking as if he wasn't one of the most dangerous men in the entire world who could literally kill someone in five seconds by just snapping their neck and Chris looks at him incredulously for a moment before holding up his hand. Viktor stops on command, like a very, very well trained dog would and then waits for Chris to speak again. 

"Okay, our thoughts are not even the same." The Swiss man sighs. "But, I'll humour you for now. What are you so worried about?"

" _Yuuri._  What if he stumbles across  _those_  things?" Viktor all but completely wails. Chris understood the meaning behind his nuances. He  _knows_  the struggle, given how oblivious his husband still remains since the day they got married and moved in together, which Chris would like to remain as such, even until the day they grow old together with about ten generations of grandchildren under their belt. 

"It's not like he's going to sniff around looking for them." Chris points out. "If you're so worried, keep him distracted... or just, render him unable to walk." His tone was suggestive, Viktor notes but the Russian man somehow takes offense to that. He doesn't view Yuuri as someone  _just_  to have sex with. Sure, the sex was fucking phenomenal - he can't believe that the man was even a virgin at that time - but he wants something more from Yuuri and it wasn't just to relieve sexual frustrations. He can't quite pinpoint it just yet but for now, what he does know is that all he wants to do is know all the facets of Yuuri that he'll only show Viktor. 

"I can't do that." Viktor pouts as he responds. "I'm taking him sightseeing. I don't want to disappoint him by keeping him holed up in my room all day."

Chris was about to point out the obvious solution to Viktor's initial dilemma (i.e. his boyfriend finding about his cache of guns and ammo) was to keep him out of the house until it was night time but the notion itself caught Chris off-guard.

" _Sightseeing._  Seriously?" Chris deadpans. From what he knows of his best friend in the years they've known each other since they were both twenty one, Viktor Nikiforov doesn't  _do_  simple sightseeing. He does all the Nikiforov-brand of "standard" romantic tactics like candlelight dinners at luxury hotels restaurants and high-end, black-tie establishments, chartering private planes to jet-set across the globe to some exotic location, listening to music at the Metropolitan Opera House (or the Royal Opera House of Sicily, Italy) and expensive shopping sprees at Saks Fifth Avenue or Bergdorf Goodman (or Rodeo Drive, should he be in town in California).

He said that he hates walking around aimlessly since he prefers to drive fancy in his black reinforced Audi R8 Coupe or his Bentley Continental, which isn't exactly ideal to use for sightseeing purposes in a city so riddled with traffic. That, or be driven in a Mercedes-Maybach S 600 Pullman Guard or a Rolls-Royce Phantom by a chauffeur but even that wasn't an option. 

If he's going to stroll somewhere during his leisure time, it's going to be at the beaches of the Maldives where he'll coo over the bio-luminescent plankton that illuminated the shoreline at night or in Bora-Bora, where he can at least walk the length of the boardwalk on his way to a cabin that was above the sea water. Or, as previously mentioned, when he's going shopping. 

To summarize, Viktor Nikiforov doesn't take someone around Manhattan to see sights that he's seen for a million times already because that is just the very definition of tame, boring and uneventful - something that the man clearly doesn't like. 

Chris crosses his arms against his chest. "What's next, are you guys going to have a rowboat ride at the lake in Central Park and feed each other finger sandwiches in the Loeb Boathouse? Go to Coney Island and try out carnival games?" Chris jokes sardonically. 

To his absolute astonishment, Viktor was keen on the idea. Legitimately. "Oh! Those are great ideas! I'm sure Yuuri would love it! My Yuuri needs to unwind since he is a college student after all!" Viktor's eyes shine brightly at the idea and he's sighing with satisfaction as he emphasizes his hold on this Yuuri kid with the determiner he just used.

Chris, all the while keeping his tight smile, suddenly wished that the Achaval Ferrer Malbec red wine he had with his ravioli filled with fresh spinach puree and Arethusa Farm basket cheese in sage and butter sauce had a  _lot_  more alcohol content than what it actually contains because he literally cannot deal with this man he does not recognize and has not recognized in the past two weeks. 

He's seen Viktor with his partners before - he doesn't care about the package downstairs so as long as they don't bore him - but he was never like  _this_  with them. He doubts Viktor even realizes it since he can be rather callous and careless with other people's feelings since he mostly cares about his own. He's all for change, Chris was, but Viktor could have eased him in on this because this was all seriously very, very new to Chris; Viktor being a complete, lovestruck idiot, he means. It's not that Chris was unhappy, either but the Swiss man convinces himself that he'll just have to get used to it since it was just so new. 

It was like breaking in a new pair of Givenchy black leather, zipper calf-length boots; it takes time to get used to since a fresh pair of boots are never comfortable to begin with, even if it's  _Givenchy_. 

Chris takes his wine glass and takes a final sip of his drink, going silent as he watches Viktor pull out his phone and call Yuuri to ask him what he likes to eat. After a few minutes of nodding and hums of agreement, Viktor finally says, "Oh! Alright, alright. I'll look up a recipe." Viktor says happily. "I want to make it for you for this weekend. I'm guessing it's your favourite so I'll have to try my best!"

Viktor listens and then singsongs, "Aw, Yuuri, are you embarrassed?" He chuckles at the response he hears on the other side of the line before asking, "Is this the famous Japanese reticence I keep on hearing about?"

Pause and then, Viktor's brow furrow ever so slightly as he asks, "Are you eating? Wait, was I disturbing you?"

Another pause and then he laughs as he says, "Yeah. I'm actually in the middle of lunch and am effectively annoying my best friend right here by talking to you instead of finishing my pasta." 

Chris snorts. Even on the phone, Viktor was smitten. He was joking two weeks ago but Chris really feels that his friend is really far gone for this kid. It makes Chris wonder what kind of person they were. Again, Chris has seen Viktor in relationships before but he wasn't like  _this_. Hell, it was usually other way around; his partner pines over him instead this current situation. 

Viktor ends the call ten minutes later and pays for their meal, to Chris's appreciation, before they returned downstairs to continue their shopping. 

"What should I get Yuuri so as to like welcome him properly to my apartment?" 

Chris thinks that Viktor is going this the wrong way as it was usually the one coming over bringing the gift instead of the other way around. He still humours him, though and says, "Something from Cosabella?" 

Viktor shook his head. "That might just scare him away. He's a college student... How about a cardigan? Or a first edition book? Maybe even a ribbed sweater?" 

"...Honey, just  _no_." Chris sighs. "Okay, we have a lot of things to cover so let's start with shirts..."

\--

Saturday arrived and Viktor found himself feeling a bit old as he was surrounded by a sea of young adults at the campus of the University of Stamford-Connecticut. He got a lot of stares, of course, which wasn't anything new but one can't help but feel a bit self-conscious about being there, trying to be casual as he leans against the door of his Audi R8 Coupe, arms crossed against his chest and one of his hands holding his smartphone tightly in his grasp as he patiently waits for his phone to vibrate and chime to indicate that he just received a text from Yuuri. 

Maybe it was the way he was dressed, Viktor muses. He looked down at his attire and found nothing out of the ordinary about it with his black V-neck shirt, unfastened grey Burberry trench coat, dark denim jeans and dark brown loafers. For security measures, he had put on a pair of sunglasses, despite the cloudy day and the apparent threat of rain looming overhead. Viktor notes that he was about as dressed down as he could possibly be since he mostly wears suits for most of the weekday. Viktor sighs and returns his attention back to his phone. 

Sadly, he's been standing there for a good few minutes and there was still no word from his boyfriend. Plus, the campus security have already asked him twice if whom he was waiting for was arriving soon since his presence was steadily gaining him a rather wide, curious audience. Seriously, maybe it was the car? Viktor muses dully. Have they never seen a person with a car before? 

Just as he was about to straighten up and text Yuuri again, he heard a low whistle and a somewhat familiar voice calling out his name. He looks up and sees Phichit Chulanont, dressed from head to toe in black workout clothes and a bag pack strapped over his shoulders jogging up to him with a bright smile on his face. 

"If you're here to pick Yuuri up," Phichit begins. "He's probably either asleep or still packing. Poor guy didn't have much sleep last night. He was too excited to meet you today that he couldn't sleep without the aid of pills, which is kind of hard to actually acquire in a dormitory full of tired college students."

Viktor can't help but feel slightly pleased at the mention of Yuuri's apparent excitement but, at the same time, his stomach dropped over the notion of his lack of sleep. "Can I go to the dorms then? Help him pack?"

"Yes. Help him  _pack_." He emphasizes the last word with air quotes. "Is that what they call it these days?" Phichit's suggestive tone has Viktor chuckling at his words. Phichit grins and then tells him their dorm room building, floor number and their room number and warns him halfheartedly so as to not initiate "Chesterfield Rugby" in their room before he left for his jog. Viktor was left to stand there, absolutely confused so as to Yuuri's apparent liking for such an aggressive contact sport and initiating a game of it it in his own dorm room, before he finally resolves to enter the school premises. Turning on the alarms of his car, he leaves a valid ID at the security post at the school entrance before he was allowed to enter the campus grounds and he makes his way to the dormitory building that Phichit had indicated to. 

Yuuko Nishigori was at the dormitory lobby and she reveals that she's actually the resident assistant of Yuuri's floor. She escorts him up to the second floor, down a narrow corridor and then they stop in front of the room with Phichit and Yuuri's name written on the the whiteboard nailed to the door. Well, at least, according to what Yuuko was saying as they had written their names down in their native country's lettering. 

"Phichit texted me the details and said that he might have just woken up so go easy on him. He's not a very morning person." Yuuko says brightly, giving him a pat on the back before pushing him forwards and then promptly excusing herself to tend to her own business. 

Now that he was left to his own devices, Viktor can feel the anticipation that has built up to this moment overwhelm him that he impulsively reaches for the door and, by some miracle, it was actually unlocked. Even with his limited knowledge about the Thai man, Viktor can safely say that he must have done this on purpose. He swings it open and then hears the most terrified, blood-curdling scream for his effort. 

Yuuri was standing in front of his standing wardrobe, his hands frozen in a pose that looks as if his grip on something had slackened, and was wearing only a striped V-neck shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. He's seen his legs before but for Viktor, they never stopped looking so damn beautiful. The subtle ripples of muscle, the silky paleness of his skin; it was almost too much to look at. 

"Yuuri has nice legs..." Viktor hears someone say and he realizes that the noise has gathered a crowd and they were looking at something that he doesn't like to share to the rest of the world with. 

Yuuri promptly grabs Viktor's arm and pulls him into the threshold. He grabs the door knob and apologizes to the crowd before slamming the door shut at their faces. He then turns and presses his back against the door, as if fearing that someone else will barge in or open the door unceremoniously like Viktor had and looked at Viktor with a flushed, disbelieving look on his face. Viktor found it so endearingly. He's seen Yuuri being shy in the brief moments they spent out in Buenos Aires but that was nothing compared to what he was being right now. 

"Did you oversleep?" Viktor asks after the beat of silence. He knows this, of course, but it would be better to play the oblivious card. Yuuri jerkily nods. 

"How did you..." His voice trails away. 

"Oh, Phichit met with me at the gate entrance, told me your dormitory hall and room number and here I am." Viktor says truthfully. He takes a few steps forwards and puts his hands on either side of Yuuri's face, effectively caging him between the back of the door and his own physique. Memories of their night in Buenos Aires suddenly came flooding back to him and Viktor suddenly wants nothing more than to pin him even closer to the door and take his lips again. 

Yuuri lets out an audible gasp, his brown eyes slightly widening from their position and Viktor curls one of his hands into a fist, still pressing his wrist against the wooden surface of the door. He lowers himself to lean down and almost press his lips against the shell of Yuuri's ear as he murmurs, "He also said..." He purposefully trails his voice away and Yuuri shivers slightly from the contact. 

"He said w-what?" His voice was soft and slightly shaky. Viktor grins like an eager child. 

Viktor pulls back and beams down at him and then said, "No Chesterfield rugby in the dorm room." Viktor chirps cheerfully. Yuuri's brows furrowed at his words and he seems to be looking thoughtful for a brief moment before realization somehow dawned on him and his cheeks go red. 

Ah. Now he got Phichit and Yuuko were telling him to go easy on him.

"Ah!" Viktor nods while still keeping his smile. "Now I get it."

Yuuri looked slightly aghast. "We. Are. Not--" He began but Viktor was done holding back after seeing Yuuri's adorable expressions and kissed him when he had his mouth parted open slightly. He shoves his tongue into Yuuri's mouth, eliciting a groan but Yuuri met him back with as much passion as he could muster. They were slightly out of breath by the time they pulled away and the blush across Yuuri's cheeks were a lot more pronounced than earlier. 

"P-Please..." Yuuri stammers, taking one step forwards and puts his hands on the lapels of Viktor's coat to pull him closer to breathe near his ear, "Not here... We can do whatever when we get to Manhattan. Please."

Viktor can't help but let out a chuckle and then wound his arms around Yuuri's waist, pushing them even closer together. He buries his face in the crook of Yuuri's neck and the man easily returns his hug, making Viktor tighten his hold slightly for a brief moment before relaxing again. 

"Of course." Viktor breathes. "I missed you."

Viktor means it too. He didn't think he'd get attached this fast but if Chris's words were anything to go by, he was certainly feeling something for Yuuri that he didn't feel with the countless others that came before him. They don't compare at all to this man he had wrapped around his arms. 

"...I missed you too." Yuuri breathes and Viktor can almost hear the smile in his voice. 

Viktor's heart might have skipped a beat. 

Eventually, they had to pull away from each other when Viktor had taken notice of the alarmingly large pile of clothes that was thrown on top of Yuuri's bed and he admitted that he forgot to pack the night before. After about twenty minutes of packing, he followed Yuuri's orders--really, he  _ordered_  Viktor--and took Yuuri's things as he made his way out of the dorm and back outside the school campus, where his car was still making people do double-takes as they pass by it. 

Seriously, have they never seen a car before? Also, it's an Audi R8 Coupe, not a Bugatti Veyron (because those things are  _ugly_. Seriously). 

Yuuri arrived some ten minutes of waiting later, dressed in a black crew neck jumper topped with a tan parka, mercury-washed denim jeans with the cuffs rolled up to his ankles and black canvas slip-ons. He was talking on the phone with someone in a foreign language that was decidedly not Japanese. He ends the call when he meets Viktor's gaze and walk forwards, standing close enough for Viktor to take his hand. 

"Who were you talking to?" Viktor asks as he opens the front passenger door and helps Yuuri inside. 

"Phichit." Yuuri answers him vaguely. Viktor hums and shuts the door, going over to the other side and waits for the next car to pass before slipping inside the vehicle as well. 

"I really wasn't going to do anything in the dorm rooms, you know." Viktor puts in lightly, earning another blush from Yuuri. He continued on nevertheless. "For one thing, your dorm mates were crowding around the door when I got out of your room so they would have been listening." Viktor reaches over and quickly pecks Yuuri on the cheek. Viktor reaches to cup his cheek before saying, "Second of all, you're tired; you didn't have much sleep. I wouldn't want you to have to strain yourself for something like sex."  

"...Thank you." Yuuri said after a minute of silence, leaning into the touch until Viktor pulls away to start the engine. Yuuri leans back against the backrest of his car seat, adjusts the seat belt, and then lets out a sigh. "Seriously. How long will the subject of my sex life be interesting for these people?"

Viktor laughs but doesn't have a reply for it. He straps himself on with the seat belt before he gets out of his parking spot and drives off. Viktor fiddles with the iPod on the dashboard until Viktor hears the slightly melancholic tune of Waterways by Ludovico Einaudi play from the surround-sound speakers. Yuuri hums his approval and Viktor asks if he knows the artist.

"Einaudi, right?" Yuuri guesses correctly. "I play some of his pieces sometimes, mostly from his earlier albums." He elaborates.

Viktor smiles warmly. Well, they have the same tastes in music. That's good, Viktor thinks. They sink into a comfortable silence between the two of them with only the soft piano and the soothing string accompaniment making noise within the confines of the vehicle. After a while, Yuuri breaks the silence and calls out Viktor's attention.

"Hey, Viktor..."

"Hm?"

Yuuri twiddles his thumbs and purses his lips before managing to say, "N...Not that I'm accusing you of anything but.. didn't you say that you worked a boring office desk job?"

Viktor's jaw tightens but he loosens it quickly before Yuuri could notice. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"...Um, well, I was wondering how with that kind of job, how can you afford an Audi Coupe?"

 _Oh._  So that was what he was curious about. Cars like these comes at a price tag of over a hundred thousand dollars. Seeing as how Yuuri knows he's only twenty five and if he was in the guise of a normal desk jockey, not even starving himself to save money would make it possible for him to afford this kind of car. That is just not possible in this kind of economy. Viktor wracks his brain quickly for a high-paying job that involves desk work, remembers something and lets out a sheepish smile before replying,

"Being a member of the board is a boring job, my star. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it so I was just being vague. I'm sorry if I technically lied to you." He's still lying, per se, but it wasn't that much of a stretch to think that Viktor Nikiforov had a profound influence within the organization as if he were part of a board of, what is it in this case? Trustees? Whatever.

He's used this excuse before with his previous lovers when they asked about his paycheck but the usual reaction to this revelation was for Viktor's lovers to want to be spoiled senseless with a shower of expensive trinkets and Viktor quickly gets bored of them because of their greediness. He doesn't expect Yuuri to react the same way but his response was still quite surprising.

Yuuri shook his head. "It's okay." He says quickly. "I'm glad that you weren't being specific with your position at work in the presence of my friends because aside from teasing me about my sex life, you can expect all the Christian Grey jokes they'll be making just to piss me off." He jokes.

Viktor makes a face. "Christ, I would have thought I was a better man than Christian Grey--"

"You are!" Yuuri immediately exclaims, looking horrified. "Seriously. Let's drop this subject, okay?" He adds. 

Viktor smiles and nods. They stop at a red light and Viktor remembers his gift and reaches over to the back seat to get the Barney's bag that was beside Yuuri's duffel bag and hands it over to Yuuri. 

"I saw it and had to get it for you. I hope you like it." Viktor says warmly. 

"You...You didn't have to give me a gift." Yuuri grumbles, even as he cradles the coveted  _Barney's New York_  black paper bag against his chest rather protectively, as if it was something so precious to him. His cheeks were slightly flushed and he seemed to be attempting to put on a petulant expression on his face while trying to hold back a smile. Viktor's heart swelled in his chest, feeling a weird sort of heart-burn like sensation running though his arteries. Viktor has to force himself to tear his gaze away in favour of looking at the road as the red light turned green now.

"You haven't even looked inside, yet." Viktor says. "I hope it fits, though. I didn't know your size and I had some help picking it out. Chris was so done with me, I owed him another bottle of Dom for his troubles." 

"Chris?" Yuuri questions, tilting his head slightly to the side. 

"Oh, he's the best friend I mentioned. I've known him since we were twenty one." Viktor hums. "He even kept on saying that I was never this fussy with what to give to someone before." Viktor adds with a laugh. Yuuri smiles at the idea, even if it seems a bit bashful. 

"I see..." Viktor watches from the corner of his eye as Yuuri looks down at the paper bag on his lap. He turns his gaze to Viktor and he meets it for a brief moment before turning his gaze back to the road. "I'll open it when we get to your place. Where do you live anyways?"

Viktor answers him with a coy smile. "You'll have to see it for yourself to get the full experience."

\--

Viktor's apartment was a sprawling, majestic modern, triplex penthouse atop a premier, white-gloved doorman condominium in the relatively modern and wealthy neighbourhood of Chelsea, Manhattan. The first level opened up to a spacious vestibule that faced the large terrace that had the heated, seven metre long, four-foot deep rooftop pool, a small seating area as well as the 180 degree views of the Chelsea neighborhood and the Hudson River. The first floor was mostly open concept, with the arrangement of the furniture defining each spot as it is and dividing the large open space. 

The penthouse boosted five bedrooms in total, all with en suite bathrooms though only two of those rooms were only ever thoroughly used and that was the master bedroom where Viktor and Makkachin slept and then the biggest guest bedroom, where Chris would stay at if he and his husband had another one of their spats that lasts overnight before they fell in love with each other all over again the moment apologies were exchanged.  

Viktor takes off Yuuri's coat and heads off to the coat room to hang it. Just as he finishes hanging it on a hook, he hears a loud thud and a cry of surprise and Viktor's blood immediately runs cold. He turns his body sharply and sprints out of the room and back into the vestibule, ready with his pathetic explanations about whatever mechanism that Yuuri must have stumbled upon by accident, only to find hear, not Yuuri screaming, but actually laughing and cooing at something brown and huge-

"Oh." Viktor sighs in absolute relief. "You met Makkachin."

"More like Makkachin met me." Yuuri says with a grin. He scratches the poodle behind the ears and then coos, "He's so adorable." At this, Makkachin barks, as if in approval of the statement, and begins to lick his face in his excitement. Yuuri only halfheartedly protests and almost lets out a whine when Viktor pulls his poodle away.

Viktor gives his command in Russian and the poodle obediently sits down on his hind legs. "I'll take you to your room first." Viktor says as he takes the bags off the floor and gestures for Yuuri to follow him upstairs.  

The room Yuuri finds himself in was large and spacious. There was was a sliding door that led to a rather large, walk-in closet that honestly was the size of a small store. The bed was king-sized and was facing the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the cityscape below. 

"Wow." Yuuri breathes as he presses his palms against the window and looks at the city. He turns his head from side to side, trying to look at building after building that towered high within their view of the neighbourhood. Sounding adorably enchanted, he suddenly asks, "Is that the Hudson River?" He points to the view of the body of water from quite a distance away. 

"Hm." Viktor says, joining him from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his hair before replying, "We can enjoy the view later. For now, you didn't have breakfast so let's go cook that katsudon of yours."

\--

Though Viktor promised he'd cook for him, Yuuri insisted on helping and ended up doing most of the work, though he didn't complain about it. Viktor's only job was to watch over the pork cutlets as they were cooking in oil in the frying pan while Yuuri expertly chops up scallions and white onions, washes the rice and sets it in a pot to cook next to the meat and then go back to the fridge to get eggs and scramble them lightly in a bowl. 

By the time they had finished, Yuuri had done about ninety-five percent of the actual work while Viktor barely did anything but sit there and watch Yuuri. The Japanese man sets down the two bowls at the dining table and Viktor gets out a bottle of red wine - Oasi degli Angeli 2008 Kupra Grenache - and two wine glasses before joining Yuuri at the dining room table. 

Makkachin, however, noticed that they were staring to eat and Viktor apologizes profusely to his poodle and saunters off to fill his food and water bowl before re-joining Yuuri back at the dining table. 

Yuuri mutters some Japanese, clapping his hands together as if offering his prayers before he picks up his utensils and then examines them with a curious look on his face. "Your chopsticks... they seem brand new." Yuuri notes.

"I bought a set since I heard that it's traditionally eaten that way." Viktor says simply. "Now, don't laugh at me if I'm bad at it."

Pork cutlet bowls - or  _Katsudon_ , in Yuuri's native tongue - were feasts for the Gods. And while Yuuri did laugh at him for his bad chopstick skills, Yuuri was kind enough to offer to feed his food to him. Viktor found it absolutely adorable to see him offer him food that was between the chopsticks with his hand underneath it in case his grip loosens and Viktor opens his mouth eagerly, savouring the taste and yelling  _vkusno_  at every bite, though he was asked to stop at the expense of Yuuri stopping in feeding him the food. When they had finished, they washed the dishes together though Viktor had Yuuri stay put when it was time to put the items back into their respective cupboards and then sauntered to the fridge to take out a box with the Godiva label on it. 

"Sit." Viktor requests, gesturing to the space on the counter. Yuuri looked confusedly at him for a brief moment before pushing himself up the surface and settling on top of the cold, marble surface, hands pressed on either side of him and expression looking expectantly at Viktor. 

"I thought you might like dessert." He says, crossing the area to set the box down next to Yuuri and effectively caging him as he sets his palms on top of Yuuri's own so that his arms were on either side of Yuuri's legs. Viktor intertwines one of their hands together while his other was reaching for the box and opening it to reveal two rows of chocolate-dipped strawberries. He plucks one out and offers it to Yuuri. 

Yuuri purses his lips and was about to open his mouth when Makkachin barks and paws at Viktor's leg. Viktor loves his poodle but he does not appreciate getting cockblocked like this, even when it was his beloved pet. Yuuri laughs amusedly however and takes the piece of fruit from Viktor's hand and takes a bite out of it. 

"I'll still be here." He says to Viktor, voice low and husky as he finishes devouring the fruit and starts to lick the chocolate that clung to the skin of his fingers. His eyes were half-lidded as he gazes at Viktor behind his eyeglasses. Viktor swallows dryly and nodded, taking his dog with him to the upper floors. 

"I'll give you a treat later, Makkachin." He promised his poodle as he scratches the dog behind the ear. Viktor straightens up and saunters to the walk-in closet, breezed past the racks of designer clothes and shoes until he reaches the sliding glass doors that led to the bathroom. Viktor opens up a drawer and plucks out a bottle of lube and a condom, tucking the items into the pocket of his trousers and then returns to the bedroom to find that his poodle has settled into his dog bed and was drifting off to sleep. With another apologetic look, Viktor closes the door behind him and returns to the kitchen.

When he returned, Yuuri was sucking on the chocolate that coated the tips of his fingers. Yuuri had already eaten three out of the half-dozen in the box and he did not look apologetic about it when he saw Viktor coming towards him. 

"Did you save some for me?" Viktor says with a dramatic pout as he joins Yuuri by the counter. Yuuri puts his hand on Viktor's shoulder and pulls him close until he was pressing up against the edge of the counter and was in between Yuuri's legs. The younger man wraps his legs around Viktor's waist and hooks his ankles together, effectively trapping Viktor in place where he stood. Viktor doesn't really mind though and plucks out Yuuri's eyeglasses and sets them aside next to the box. 

Yuuri remains quiet but did have a smile on his face as he picks up another fruit by the crown of leaves and offers it to Viktor, pressing it against his lips. "I'll spare this one for you." Yuuri says with a smirk. Viktor opens his mouth for the bite but only managed a small portion of it before Yuuri pulled it away. 

"Hey, that's mean." Viktor chides lightly but Yuuri kees his lopsided smile and pulls off the crown of leaves from the fruit before putting it halfway into his mouth, keeping the fruit between his teeth.  

Viktor got the idea fairly quickly. "Oh. Well, I can forgive you if it's like this, then." Viktor says blithely and leans in closer. Viktor takes a large bite out of the fruit, their lips touching at the motion and keeps his face close while he chews. Yuuri finishes the treat before he reaches to cup Viktor's face with both hands and seal their lips together in a fervent kiss. Viktor immediately opens his mouth and tastes sweet milk chocolate and tarty strawberry juices in Yuuri's mouth and lets out a groan when Yuuri pulls him closer by the hold he has around his waist with his legs.

Viktor pulled away slightly, pressing their foreheads against one another as their breaths mingled together. 

"Viktor..." Yuuri breathes, his eyes darting to the box before meeting the Russian man's blue eyes again. 

The older man smiles in acknowledgement and plucks another fruit from they box and they repeat their earlier scene. Yuuri's hands don't settle by his sides anymore as they card through Viktor's hair instead. He moans into the kiss as they finish the last of their dessert and is breathless when Viktor pulls away. 

"I want to taste you more." Yuuri boldly declares, his eyes burning with quiet passion. He unhooks his ankles and pushes Viktor away by the shoulders, only to hop off the counter and turn the tables against Viktor, leaving the older man to sit halfway up the cool marble surface. 

Viktor thought that he just wanted to kiss him more but Yuuri seemed to have other ideas when he brings his hand up to palm Viktor quite brazenly. Viktor felt like a cornered teenager with the way Yuuri's lip twitched to form another smirk when he noticed that Viktor was embarrassingly at half-mast.

"Just from kissing?" Yuuri inquires with a slight tilt of his head. Viktor smiles sheepishly. 

"You're quite good at it, love. I'm surprised you haven't done it before."

Yuuri laughs. "I may not have had sex with anyone, Viktor, but I have kissed others before you."

Viktor's smile immediately faded and his eyes grew dark as his lips thinned. "Oh." He deadpans. Viktor felt childish and hypocritical - given how he was in a number of relationships prior to Yuuri too - but he can't help but feel a sort of bitterness lingering in the pit of his stomach when he imagines someone else kissing Yuuri, making him make noises that Viktor would love to think that he was the only one capable of eliciting from the man.

At this, however, Yuuri was unabashed and instead let out a chuckle as he leans forward and kisses the corner of Viktor's mouth. He leans back slightly so that their faces were just a few inches apart and puts his arms around Viktor's shoulders. "They're all in the past, Viktor." Yuuri purrs. "Like I'd kiss anyone else now when I had a taste of you."

"Oh?" Viktor feels the corner of his mouth twitch upwards but he tries to maintain a stubborn front, even though he can feel butterflies doing the samba in the pit of his stomach. "Have I set the standard?"

"Yes." Yuuri says simply but with quiet honesty. "Now," He brings one of his hands down to run his touch down to his neck, past his chest and then back to his groin. Viktor's breath hitches slightly when he feels Yuuri squeeze his clothed, half-hard erection. "Let's take care of this, yes?"

Viktor shuddered slightly began to unbuckle his belt, only for Yuuri to swat his hands away and do it himself. Sinking down to his knees, Yuuri unbuttons his slacks and pushes the zipper down so that he could kiss his bulge as it was still in the confines of his briefs. Viktor honestly never thought he'd find himself half-naked in his kitchen with this kind of context in mind but he sure as hell wasn't complaining. Yuuri runs his hands down the length of Viktor's thigh before he brings his hands back to his hips and tug his slacks and his underwear down until it pooled at his feet. Yuuri tugged it off from clinging to his ankles and tossed them aside.

Viktor's cock was only half-hard but looking down at Yuuri as he was on his knees and between his legs was making his dick twitch in anticipation. He felt like a teenager during his first time all over again, though that experience is nowhere else as enticing as this situation. Yuuri takes Viktor's length in his hand and strokes it slowly from the base up to the head, his thumb brushing against the slit of his tip.

"...D-Did," Viktor began but his jaw tenses when Yuuri repeated his ministrations in an agonizingly slow manner. 

"Did what?" Yuuri asks.

"Did you do this to others too?" Viktor managed to ask, his words almost spilling over clumsily as he spoke.

Yuuri was silent for a moment before he tilted his gaze upwards to meet Viktor's own gaze. The intensity in Yuuri's chocolate brown eyes held the same quiet passion behind them as Viktor witnessed back in Buenos Aires. His voice was low and husky when he replied, "I don't go down on my knees just for anybody." In other words,  _no_.

Viktor can't help but feel triumphant at the moment; like he just won the best prize at a town carnival. 

Before Viktor could retort to anything, he chokes back on his words when Yuuri kisses the tip of his length and swirls his tongue against the tip. He sucks at the head before he took half of Viktor's length into his mouth. Viktor's right hand reached up to grip at Yuuri's hair. They were silky and smooth to the touch. Yuuri groans but does not stop bobbing and sucking on his length while his other hand was stroking the base of his length that Yuuri couldn't take to the back of his throat just yet. Viktor could feel pre-cum dribbling out of his slit as Yuuri continued his actions. Yuuri's free hand gripped Viktor's thigh, as if to keep himself steady and then, without warning, he lets go of Viktor's hardening length to fondle with his balls before he brings himself forward and takes Viktor's entire length to the back of his throat.

"Fuck-" Viktor hisses, his hips thrusting forwards as if running on instinct. Yuuri makes a gagging noise from the surprise and Viktor pulls on Yuuri's hair to pull him his cock, immediately alarmed.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" He asks, voice frantic.

"Why'd you make me stop?" Yuuri almost sounded like he was disappointed, or annoyed. Maybe a mix of the two. "Did you not-"

"No, love. I loved it," He cuts him off, sounding a bit breathless as he tries to put on a sheepish grin. "...But you make me want to fuck your mouth."

Yuuri blinks and then smiles at the notion. "I'm not opposed to it, if my earlier actions weren't enough of an indication of that." The Japanese man rolls his eyes. Viktor has the grace to apologize and Yuuri decides to keep going. He repeats his actions earlier, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks on the head of Viktor's length, swirling his head around the reddening tip that was dripping salty pre-cum, until he hummed in affirmation for Viktor to start moving. 

Viktor gripped the edge of the counter and Yuuri's hair in a reassuring sort of way and then bucked his hips forwards, his cock hitting the back of Yuuri's throat. Yuuri groans in response but his grip on Viktor's thighs only get tighter, his fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks all over the alabaster-white skin. Yuuri's cavernous mouth was sinfully hot, it was going to drive Viktor wild. He looks down at Yuuri's debauched expression; his eyes and lashes were wet with tears, the corner of his mouth was dripping with saliva and the pale flesh around his face was flushed entirely red. 

Viktor felt his dick twitch at the sight of it. Heat was pooling at the pit of his stomach and he gave his warning to Yuuri, who hummed in response, sending ripples of vibration down his cock. He even smiled and if he could, he would probably nod. With one final thrust, his tip hitting the back of Yuuri's throat, Viktor released hot spurts of cum, filling Yuuri's mouth and Viktor watched his adam's apple bob as he swallows him down. Viktor's eyes widened as he watched Yuuri pull away from his cock, breathless, gaze hazy but eyes still burning with the desire of more.

"Don't you have a gag reflex?" Viktor chokes out. 

Yuuri replies, "Apparently not." In a strangely gravely voice. His hands flew to his throat and he looked at Viktor in surprise.

"Cute." Viktor says with a smirk. He grabs Yuuri's biceps and pulls him up to his feet, turning the tables once more and reversing their positions so that Yuuri was pressed against the counter. Viktor pressed their lips together and ran his tongue the seam of Yuuri's bottom lip, prying his mouth further open. He tastes himself slightly as he ran his tongue in the insides of Yuuri's mouth, meeting his lover's own and pulled away to nip at Yuuri's bottom lip before moving his mouth downwards to his chin, the line of his jaw until he reached the length of his neck. He pecks and nibbles on skin, creating a line of small, reddish-purple bruises on the heated skin that trailed all the way down to Yuuri's collarbone. 

Yuuri kept his hands busy, one fisting the back of Viktor's shirt to brace himself while the other was coaxing Viktor's cock into hardness once again. Viktor tugged on the hemline of Yuuri's jumper and let his other hand roam up the heated skin of Yuuri's torso. Yuuri groaned as he let go of Viktor's cock and his hold of the fabric to tug off his jumper. Viktor helped him out of it and tossed it aside where his own pants were discarded. Viktor began to work on the button of Yuuri's denim jeans when an idea popped into his head and he pulled away, earning him a confused and slightly alarmed look from Yuuri.

Viktor winked and sashayed quickly to the fridge to take out a bowl of whipped cream, which he intended to eat with the strawberries but that idea was already out of the window. He returns Yuuri, quickly kissing him before he took a handful of the cream and smeared it across Yuuri's chest.

"Ah!" Yuuri flinched at the coldness of the cream that coated his nipples. His hands gripped the edge of the counter before Yuuri slowly brings it to grip at Viktor's hip, running his palm down until he found the base of Viktor's length and starts to pump it again. His movements were a little slow and clumsy, seeing as how he was distracted with Viktor. The Russian man didn't give him time to process things as he bent forwards to lick the erect nub, letting his teeth graze against it before he began to suck, tasting sweet cream and slightly salty skin dancing around on the taste buds of his tongue. His left hand moved to graze his fingers against against the other nipple before he starts to twist it between his appendages. Yuuri's leg twitched from the sensation and Viktor's right hand flew downwards to grip at it, trying to keep it in place.

Viktor could feel himself get hard as he listens to Yuuri whine, pant and breathe out his name like a prayer. Viktor moves his lips away and starts to lick the cream that smeared right at the centre of Yuuri's pectorals but doesn't do it cleanly, leaving some areas of the skin with the sweet cream, as he moves to take the second nipple into his mouth and repeats his actions from earlier.

"V-Viktor-" Yuuri groans.

"Hm?" He hums and smiles when he feels a shiver run down Yuuri's sensitized body. Yuuri shifted his weight and grinds his hips against Viktor's. He can feel the man's bulge press against him.

"...I..Please..." Yuuri's voice almost sounded like a whimper. Yuuri loses himself quickly, Viktor notes idly. He can't form coherent sentences when he's in the middle of enjoying himself; going mindless from the throws of passion he's experiencing with his body. Viktor kissed his chest and ran his lips up until he could reach Yuuri's swollen lips again. The younger man immediately opens his mouth for a searing, passionate kiss. With the hand that he used to hold down Yuuri's twitching leg, he runs it up until he reached Yuuri's crotch. He squeezes the bulge, earning a groan of pleasure though he swallows it down. When their lips parted, he hears Yuuri curse in a foreign tongue that Viktor couldn't recognize. He decides to ask Yuuri later but for now, he wanted to fuck this man against the kitchen counter.

It definitely was not something the interior designers had said would be the functions for it but, whatever.

Viktor pulls down Yuuri's fly and quickly relieves him off his pants and his boxer briefs, discarding it to the floor like the rest of his clothes and helps Yuuri up the counter. He moves away to pick up his trousers and pull out the condom and bottle of lube and returns to his awaiting boyfriend. Yuuri's hands drop to his sides to press his palms against the surface of the counter but not for long as Viktor eases him into a position where in he's almost halfway to lying down on the counter, but not really. He leans to one side with his elbow propping him up and lets Viktor hoist his leg up so that the bend of his leg was resting over Viktor's shoulder but the position left him completely open to the man in front of him.

Viktor's eyes rake in the view he has of Yuuri in front of him; taking in the sight of Yuuri's parted lips, a thin trail of saliva trailing from the corner of his mouth, his flushed cheeks and half-lidded, chocolate brown eyes which were unfocused and hazy. His hair matted against his sweaty forehead and his thick, dark lashes were still wet upon closer inspection. Yuuri's head tilts slightly upwards and he lets out an impatient whine when he meets Viktor's gaze. 

Viktor takes the bottle of lube and coats his fingers with it. Yuuri purses his lip in anticipation but Viktor leans forwards to whisper against his ear and tells him to relax. He licks the shell of his ear before he moves his tongue downwards to trace the line of his jaw and starts to work his way down to mark the joint of his arm. His right index finger moves towards Yuuri's heated entrance and starts to prod it with the tip. Yuuri hisses when Viktor works the finger in further, sliding it in and out until he added the second, slick finger. Yuuri gasps, his hands balling into fists when Viktor begins to scissor him open. The tip of Yuuri's length was collecting beads of pre-cum and was starting to spill over the slit and dribble down his length and down on the counter. Viktor used his free hand to run it up the length of Yuuri's right thigh, up to his hips until he moves his hand sideways and reaches the base of Yuuri's tip.

Viktor grips it tight and Yuuri's eyes widen, his hips bucking to the touch. The two sensations of being scissored open and being stroked was overwhelming to Yuuri. His laboured breathing was getting erratic and tears were starting to pool at his eyes again from the sensations that bombarded his senses. When Viktor added another finger, Yuuri sucked in a breath and choked out a moan.

"P-Please... n-no more..." He begs. His fists were tightening up so much that his knuckles were turning white. With his lips still against the skin of Yuuri's neck, he hums in acknowledgement and lets go of Yuuri's length so that he could bring his hand up to reach for the bowl of cream again, taking a dollop into his fingers and brings it up to Yuuri's mouth. Hesitantly, Yuuri opens his mouth and Viktor inserts his cream-coated digits inside, ordering him to suck on his fingers. As Yuuri begins to lick and suck on his fingers, he continues to prod inside Yuuri's entrance, going further until he brushes against something that made Yuuri choke out a gasp.

"Found it." Viktor says with a blithe smile and continues to prod at Yuuri's prostate. He pulls his fingers away from Yuuri's mouth so that he could use his hand to cradle the back of Yuuri's head, pushing him forwards to kiss his sweet, hot mouth. He licks the cream that lined the roof of Yuuri's mouth and swallows down his moans. Yuuri writhes underneath him as Viktor continues to finger him, marveling at the tight, moist heat that wrapped around his fingers. Viktor hears Yuuri let out a breathy whine when he finally pulls his digits away from his entrance.

Viktor straightens up and picks up the condom from the counter, tearing the packaging and rolled the rubber down his hard, aching length. Yuuri watches him, lips parted as he breathes through his mouth.

"H..Hurry up and fuck me already..." Yuuri's voice was hoarse but laced with impatience. Viktor meets his half-lidded gaze and he hums in response. Viktor took the bottle of lube off the counter again and coated his dick with it. He lines up his length, the tip pressing at Yuuri's entrance while his other hand was around Yuuri, holding him upright with his palm behind his back. Yuuri's arms were around Viktor's neck and he tells him to hurry again.

Viktor presses his lips to Yuuri's as he slides the tip inside the puckered hole and swallows down the gasp that escaped from Yuuri's chest. He continued to slide further inside him, Yuuri's fingernails grazing and running red lines across the pale skin of Viktor's shoulder blades. When Viktor was halfway in, he lets go of the base of his length and brings it up to hold on to the Yuuri's leg that was over his shoulder, as if to keep in place. Yuuri pulls away from the kiss when he knocks his head back when Viktor was all in and had started to slide in and out of his entrance, starting slow as he begins to pound into the tight heat.

"S-Shit..." Yuuri grits out in between laboured breathing and screams of bliss. 

The open concept of the living area amplified the noise coming from Yuuri, his shouts of pleasure bouncing off the walls and echoing on all four sides. Viktor was thankful that he was residing at the penthouse of the building. Even so, when the initial waves of pleasure finally wavered and Yuuri had a slightly clearer head, Yuuri hears himself and his wanton moans that he brings one of his hands down from his hold around Viktor's neck to cover his mouth.

"Didn't I say it before? There's no shame in your noise, Yuuri." Viktor manages to grunt out as he begins to pick up the pace and rams into Yuuri at a much faster rhythm. Yuuri's own resolve falters for a bit but he clamps his hand over his mouth a bit tighter and closes his eyes as he shook his head in protest.

Growling, Viktor lets go of Yuuri's leg and takes the hand that he covered his mouth with, using it to yank him forwards so that their chests were pressing together. Yuuri's arms languidly wrap themselves around Viktor's shoulders while Viktor's arms were now holding up Yuuri's legs. The younger man wraps his legs around Viktor's waist to make things easier for him and lets himself be picked up off the surface of the counter and be carried off. Yuuri wasn't too heavy but Viktor only managed to take him as far as the dining area, knocking down a chair in the process of setting him down at the end of the dining table.

The new area allowed for Yuuri to lie down and Viktor hoisted both his legs over his shoulder, letting the folds of his knees rest on his shoulders, before easing himself back into Yuuri and pounded into him without mercy. He grips at Yuuri's thighs tightly to keep them steady. Yuuri didn't know what to do with his hands other than to grip the edges of the table and brace himself.

"F-Fuck..." Viktor gasps. Yuuri's insides were hot, slick and fucking tight. It felt like his cock was being sucked in and he relished at Yuuri's unabashed moans and screams for more, more and  _more_. He changed his angle slightly, going balls deep inside him, and must have glanced over Yuuri's prostate when Yuuri suddenly gaps and arches his back from the onslaught of pleasure that coursed through his body. Viktor continued to attack that sweet spot, feeling a wide grin spread across his face as he listens to Yuuri's mewls and choked out commands for him to fuck him harder. 

"You're... you're so beautiful, Yuuri..." Viktor breathes and Yuuri groans in response. 

Viktor feelts Yuuri's legs tensing up, a shudder running down his spine as hot slick spurts out of Yuuri's length, splattering across his chest and stomach. Viktor continues to pound into him, even while Yuuri was still coming down from his high. Viktor lets go of Yuuri's legs, dropping them from over his shoulders and wound them loosely around his waist, hooking them by the ankles, before he glides his hands up from his hold of Yuuri's legs and grips at Yuuri's hips instead. He tugs Yuuri forwards by his hold on his hips  He takes Yuuri's wrists and pulls him upright where the younger man immediately draped one of his arms around Victor's shoulders while the other fisted the hair at the back of Victor's head.

Yuuri presses their lips together into another hot, open-mouthed kiss and Viktor continues to slam his length inside Yuuri. When his movements begin to stutter and all out of rhythm, he knew that it wasn't long until he came too. When he finally releases, Viktor bites at whatever skin was nearest to his mouth to muffle his groan and feels himself shudder as he empties himself inside Yuuri. He hears Yuuri gasp at the sharp contact of Viktor's teeth against his flesh.

They stay as is for a while, trying to catch their breath. Yuuri drops his head against Viktor's shoulder while Viktor mimics him, burying his face into Yuuri's neck and trails butterfly kisses at whatever skin was nearby his lips. When he finally felt like he could walk properly, Viktor slowly pulls out of Yuuri and ties the condom, kissing Yuuri quickly before he left the dining area to go back to the kitchen and threw the condom into the garbage chute. He picks up their clothes off the floor and takes Yuuri's glasses off the counter before returning to his side.

Yuuri picks up his glasses from the pile and slips them on before he looks down at himself and lets out a sigh. "I need a bath." He says.

"I'll run you a hot one." Viktor says as he takes out his briefs and slides them on. "Reminds me of our time in Buenos Aires." He quips lightly as he slips on his trousers and helps Yuuri off the table, helping him stand up when the man loses his balance slightly when his feet touched the ground. Yuuri leans against Viktor's chest briefly before he straightens up and starts to pick up his clothes from the pile on the table. He doesn't bother with his crew neck but does slip on his boxer briefs. Viktor took the rest off the clothes off the table and bundles it in his arms.

"What? Fucking me hard enough that I need a hot bath after the first round?" Yuuri says in a teasing voice.

"Well, love, I honestly can't help myself when I'm with you." Viktor replies simply. "Besides, you did say we can do whatever we want when we get to Manhattan."

"True." Yuuri shrugs. "

"Come on, now. The bath awaits you."

Yuuri nods and follows him up the stairs again.

\--

The torrential downpour started at around a quarter to three in the afternoon, effectively cancelling Viktor and Yuuri's plans to sight-see the Chelsea neighbourhood. Yuuri didn't mind the prospect of simply staying in when Viktor brought it up. Yuuri dons a fresh set of clothes before he flops down face first on the bed, burying his face in the fluffy pillows until he flips over to resurface for air. Viktor returns to the bedroom after cleaning up their mess downstairs and joins him on the bed, lying next to him. He has long since relieved himself of his clothes from earlier and opted for grey drawstring sweatpants and a dark, V-neck pullover, which was a lot more comfortable than what he was donning earlier.

Viktor props himself up so that his back was pressed against the headboard. He keeps his legs open and gestures for Yuuri to sit on the space between his legs. Yuuri smiles but sits up, scooting closer until he gets comfortable in sitting between Viktor's legs, his back pressing against the older man's chest with his head cradled between the junction of Viktor's neck and shoulder. Viktor sighs contentedly and wraps his arms around Yuuri's torso, pressing him closer and nuzzling his face in the younger man's hair, which smells faintly of Viktor's honey and macadamia blend shampoo. 

"What do you want to do?" Viktor asks Yuuri gently. Yuuri hums contemplatively before Viktor feels the shrug of his shoulders from his hold of him. 

"I don't know. I don't mind staying like this." To prove a point, he nuzzles closer so that his nose and lips brushed against the skin of Viktor's neck. "Besides, my back... kind of hurts but the hot bath did help."

Viktor allows himself a chortle. He certainly won't be able to look the bench space of his kitchen or his dining table the same way after he and Yuuri's tryst atop them.

For a moment, he was afraid of Yuuri asking for a tour of the apartment, which he doesn't really mind doing (it'll be a first, that's for sure), if it weren't for the fact that one false, innocent step or accidental brush against hidden wall panels that open up to biometric scanners and iris recognition scanners that subsequently open up hidden rooms with a battalion's worth of weaponry and ammunition and Viktor's world will come crashing down on him. He could make the excuse that it was a panic room but still, Viktor has a fucking PTRS-41 which scared the daylights out of  _Chris_  when he witnessed it for himself so can't imagine what Yuuri would react if he saw it for himself. 

He certainly can't chalk it up to it being a model or an airsoft replica if Yuuri was in a show room straight out of a Guns & Ammo magazine.

"Alright. I don't mind doing this either." Viktor finally says and means it too.

To be honest, he's never done something like this. Cuddling - not even  _spooning_  after sex - with his partners from previous times wasn't something he'd do; mostly because after whatever activity that precedes before and then after the sex, Viktor leaves their company and meets them some other day when he's bored, isn't on the job or just wants something else to occupy his time that wasn't training, reading or staring blankly at the ceiling while he strokes his dog absentmindedly. 

Doing this with Yuuri, however, seemed special. Viktor honestly couldn't tell why he feels this way but does relish at the fact that hugging Yuuri close, breathing in his scent, feeling the thumping of his heartbeat as he was pressed so closely against him - it all felt so warm and comforting. 

"What are you thinking?" Yuuri asks softly. 

"...Nothing." Viktor says with a sigh. "It's just that, I wanted to go on a boat ride with you at Central Park this afternoon but this rain is putting a damper on my plans."

Yuuri laughs at the notion. "Oh my gosh, what kind of Victorian era romance novel did you pull that idea out from?"

"...My best friend Chris though he's more of a modern literature kind of guy rather than 19th century classics." Viktor says sheepishly. "...I take it you don't like the idea?" Viktor can't help but feel his shoulders sag slightly in disappointment. He supposes he was projecting his own unconscious wants to things he thought that Yuuri would like, now that he thinks about his conversation at Fred's with Chris a few days ago. He now doubts on his plans to take Yuuri to Coney Island all of a sudden. 

Yuuri shook his head. "It's not that. I'd love to go," he says tentatively. "But... aren't those things shaped like swans?"

"Oh, no. That's a paddle boat." Viktor laughs. "I was thinking more along the lines of a row boat."

Yuuri grins. "Shall I call you Lord Nikiforov, then? Will you take me horseback riding on Rotten Row, Your Grace?"

Viktor suddenly pictures himself in a 19th century, full-piece suit with a top hat and promptly starts to laugh at the ridiculousness of the mental image. "I don't think I can row boat all the way across the Atlantic ocean, love, _just_  so I can take you horseback riding on a bridle path in Hyde Park during the London season." Viktor snorts. "Besides, how bold of you,  _Sir_  Katsuki, to invite me so brazenly to a pathway that lovers tend to parade at on horse-drawn carriages."

"I know. How scandalous." Yuuri rolls his eyes in response. 

"Oh, that gives me an idea, though." Viktor says, his mouth stretching wide into a devastatingly bright, eager smile. "We can ride on the carriages at Central Park!"

Yuuri was taken aback but was surprisingly so keen on the novel idea that he agreed to the notion, even though he did express how corny and cheesy it would be, but he still did want to experience a ride on an actual horse-drawn carriage. Viktor sighed contentedly and then started to talk to him about what else they could do at Central Park while they were there, though their plans would be moved from what was supposed to happen today to something to do tomorrow afternoon. 

They spent an immeasurable amount of time planning out tomorrow's events. Viktor wanted to take Yuuri to Central Park where they plan to visit the zoo, take a short break at the Dancing Crane cafe before they'll take a carriage ride and head up to see the Balto statue then make their way to the the Bethesda terrace. After that, they'll go row boat riding (or try out the Venetian gondolas, should Yuuri get over the sheer ridiculousness of it the next time Viktor tries to suggest it) before they'll go to the Loeb Boathouse and have a nice lunch there. After that, Viktor plans to take Yuuri to Coney Island - a place where Yuuri was definitely enthusiastic in going to - then they'll head back to Chelsea to have dinner at the a cheap pizza joint and bar before they'll head back home. 

Viktor finds absolute comfort in this and it's as welcome of a feeling as Yuuri's mere presence in his life. Yuuri was not the typical kind of person that Viktor finds himself... dating, for a lack of better word when in hindsight, they felt more like flings. He doesn't want this thing between him and Yuuri to be like how he handled his relationships in the past. Yuuri wasn't a Manhattan socialite, not a society hostess, not a supermodel or a celebrity; he was just a normal man and that's how he wanted Yuuri to be. 

Viktor can't imagine what the next week will feel like when Yuuri goes back to school. He's only just arrived and Viktor suddenly wants him to stay.

Oh God, Chris would have a field day with this kind of information. 

Makkachin's whines broke them out of their little bubble and reminded them that time and a world outside of theirs existed and stopped for no one. Viktor glanced over the alarm clock on the bedside end table and sees that it was already six in the evening. Since the skies were dark from the rain that has yet to actually let up, they didn't realize just how dark it had become outside now that night was blanketing over the city. They clamber out of bed and stretch to work out the kinks from their joints.

"What do you want for dinner?" Viktor asks as he works out the kinks in his neck. Yuuri was busy rolling his shoulders and only replied when he had finished his actions. 

"What do you feel like having tonight?"

"Hmm..." Viktor hums, looking contemplative. "I took out chicken to thaw in the chiller earlier at noon. Shall we have something with that?"

Yuuri nods in acknowledgement at the suggestion. They return to the lower floor with Makkachin behind their heels. Viktor takes out the dog food from an overhead cabinet and fills up his poodle's food bowl and pats his dog's head as he watches him eat. Yuuri was by the fridge, taking out various ingredients and setting them down on the top of the counter space.

"How does stuffed chicken fillet sound?" Yuuri asks as he starts to roll up his sleeves. Viktor nods while grinning in agreement but his smile falters slightly when he realizes that Yuuri was doing most of the work again. When he brought this up, Yuuri simply smiles and says,

"I like cooking for you." He takes off the apron off the hook and ties it around himself before he got to work. "It's a nice change of pace from constantly cooking for Phichit or Yuuko or both back in the dormitory kitchens."

Viktor lets him do his work, watching him from his view by the island counter, and pulls dramatic fits whenever his offers for help gets rejected. They talk a bit more about each other and Yuuri brings up the topic of his graduation this May.

"I'm sure you're a shoe-in for graduating with honours. Maybe even summa cum laude?" Viktor says genially. 

Yuuri shrugs his shoulders, looking doubtful. "If I do, do I get anything out from it?"

"Well, better job offers, for one thing."

"Yeah, if I'm an idealist." Yuuri deadpans as he rolls his eyes. "Sadly, I'm not one and I won't be graduating with like, ten years worth of work experience to get hired anywhere. Yeah, I have  _some_  kind of work experience but I teach ice skating to children and teens at a local ice rink; that isn't exactly the kind of work experience any business establishment would need knowledge of."

Viktor snorts. "Why not become a coach? Bring promising youngsters to the next Grand Prix of Figure Skating or something."

Yuuri hums in contemplation. "I'll file that in suggestions." He says, simply. "What about your work? Are they hiring?"

Viktor's pinky finger twitches but it was out of sight from where Yuuri stood. The answer would technically be yes but Yuuri doesn't need to know that. "Ahaha, no. Not at the moment." He lies smoothly. "We're currently even thinking of downsizing but our boss is too much of a softie to put anyone out of a job." He adds and then immediately bites his tongue once his mouth was closed in punishment for his own pathetic lie.

Yuuri didn't seem to realize this, though - thankfully - and then tuts in disapproval. "He won't last in the business world like that." Yuuri notes dully. Viktor nods for the sake of agreement. Yuuri continues to work, finely chopping spinach and parsley and mixing them with cream cheese, throwing in oregano and grated Parmesan cheese and then proceeded to spoon the stuffing into the pocket he made with the spiced chicken meat.

Yuuri picks up two oil bottles from the rack and looks at them with furrowed brows before meeting Viktor's gaze. "Do I use olive oil or vegetable oil?"

"Vegetable. It has a higher smoke point."

Yuuri nods. "Got it."

After twenty minutes, with their food laid out on the table - understandably on the other side that they did not use to make love on top of - Viktor fishes out a bottle of Domaine Leflaive Batard Montrachet to pair with their chicken from the wine room and joins Yuuri at the table. Viktor uncorks the bottle and pours a generous amount into their glasses. They say their cheers and take a generous gulp of the drink before they set about to eating their dinner. 

Viktor takes a slice of the chicken and pops it into his mouth. He happily exclaims vkusno, earning a laugh from Yuuri who questions what that actually meant, before Viktor said, "My compliments to the chef." He says with a cheeky wink. Yuuri blushes pink but easily brushes off the statement and dodges the opportunity to verbally respond by taking another sip of his wine.

Once half the bottle's content was finished and their plates were cleared of food, Viktor cleared the food again, leaving Yuuri to walk around a bit to digest his food. He wanders past the dining room area and was back at the living room area where he presses himself against the glass to look thoughtfully at the sight outside the window, where the city was still being drenched in a downpour that didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon.

Viktor joins him as soon as the dishes were cleared and wraps his arms around Yuuri's waist and presses their bodies close as they watch the scene outside. Eventually, Yuuri turns his head and points to the black, grand piano that was standing in the spaces between the living room and the dining area. 

"Oh yeah. You said you play, right?" Viktor inquires and Yuuri nods. Eagerly, Viktor ushers Yuuri towards the piano and then eases him down to sit on the piano bench, ignoring Yuuri's rather halfhearted attempts at protesting. 

"What would you like me to play?" Yuuri eventually asks. 

"Anything that you can think of right now."

Yuuri purses his lips apprehensively but then gives Viktor a small smile before turning away to look down at the black and white ivory keys. Viktor moves away from his spot behind Yuuri to open the piano lid and prop it up on its stand so that the piano will be at its fullest volume. He steps closer towards the bench and settles for a small spot next to Yuuri, who scoots a bit closer so that Viktor could sit more comfortably. 

Yuuri places his fingers on a couple of keys and begins to play a slow [melody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XefN-NOu_V0). He only uses one hand as he plays and his nimble fingers move with practiced ease across the keyboard. The melody was soft and somewhat playful but it was also subdued because of the softness of the notes and very gentle to the ears. It sounded like a lullaby to Viktor's ears. He looks up from his view of Yuuri's nimble fingers to peer at Yuuri with a slight turn of his head. 

Yuuri's expression was soft, relaxed and there was a small smile playing at his lips. He brings up his other hand when more keys needed to be stroked that couldn't be done with one hand and Viktor sees that Yuuri was starting to close his eyes and lose himself to the music. The song was brief but he finishes it with a gentle flourish. 

"Wow..." Viktor breathes as he leans his head against Yuuri's shoulder. 

"...I..It's nothing." Yuuri mutters. "...Did you want me to play something else?"

"Hm.. No. I just want to hear you play anything you want."

The next piece was by Richard Clayderman.  _Mariage D' Amour_ , if Viktor remembers the man's pieces correctly. The melody was soft, delicate yet somewhat sombre but still ardent in its own subdued way. Viktor just sat there, mesmerized at Yuuri's expert fingers stroking the ivory keys. At the second half of the song, Viktor hears that he pressed the wrong key and hears Yuuri click his tongue in annoyance, but he continued to play the song, his brows now furrowed and his eyes more determined than earlier's complacency. 

When he finally finished, he lets out a sigh and then breathes out an apology for faltering a while ago. Viktor laughed and shook his head. 

"I guess I learnt another thing about you, my Yuuri."

His cheeks colour lightly once again. "Hm? What's what?"

"That you are quite the perfectionist."

Yuuri gives him a dubious stare before he turns his gaze back to the ivory keys and shrugs his shoulders. "It's only when I've perfected something do I know that my hard work has paid off but, that doesn't mean I get complacent. I won't stop at perfection either." he says by way of explanation. Viktor decides not to prod him any further and simply nods his head in agreement. 

The rain stopped at around ten minutes past eight in the evening and Viktor has been listening to Yuuri play song after song. The man memorized some classics - Pachabel's Canon in D Major, Fur Elise and Moonlight Sonata are probably in every pianists repertoire - but he liked contemporary artists like Ludovico Einaudi and André Gagnon but Viktor was surprised to hear he liked Alexander Desplat and Carter Burwell; even more so when he learns how he got to like their scores in the first place.

"The Twilight franchise might be a shit collection of movies but the music scores were nice. Actually, the soundtracks were good too, especially the first and second movie." To prove a point, he plays Bella's Lullaby by Carter Burwell and Viktor begrudgingly notes that yes, it was a good score. It was a shame about the fact that it had to be used in the shitty movie franchise.

"Have you tried composing something?"

Yuuri shook his head. "I don't exactly have the time to think about something like that. Between school, ice skating, just playing the piano and hanging out with friends and then some more schoolwork-induced suffering, I can't just sit down and just... compose something. When everything settles down and I've met all my requirements for graduation, then maybe I can compose something. It wouldn't hurt to try."

"Is it going for me?" Viktor jokes cheekily but his smile freezes when he sees Yuuri's cheeks go red and he averts his eyes to look elsewhere.

"W-We'll see when the time comes." His voice rises an octave as he speaks and Viktor finds himself unable to retort to anything. Instead, he lets his body to the talking as he brings his hands up to cradle Yuuri's face and press their lips together in a soft kiss. Yuuri kisses him back, moving forwards to press their lips harder. Viktor runs his tongue down the seam of Yuuri's lower lip and he opens his mouth eagerly, turning his body to get more comfortable. 

A trail of saliva connects between their swollen lips and Viktor licks his lips to break it. He presses his forehead against Yuuri's own. Viktor imagines closing the lid of the piano and fucking him on the surface of his Steinway & Sons grand piano but he doesn't want to break it; not when he wants to listen to Yuuri play on it again. 

His eyes flit to the staircase that was visible at the corner of his eye before he squares his attention to Yuuri. "Round two?" Viktor gives him a cheeky grin, completely unabashed.

Yuuri chuckles but smirks back at him in response. "Round two." Yuuri got to his feet and tugged Viktor by the wrist towards the staircase with Viktor happily following him from behind. 

* * *

 

**MEIXIU**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats nervously* Please forgive this poor nubi for her lateness. *kowtows*
> 
> \--
> 
> For updates, comments and suggestions, feel free to check my [Tumblr.](https://meixiu-writes.tumblr.com/)
> 
> \--
> 
> I may or may not have a thing for guns at one point in my life. Or maybe since forever.


	4. From A New Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christophe Giacometti was a man on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ***aggressively kowtows***  
>  I know I have these excuses but I really can't help it. Work is rather hectic when you work in the field of education, especially when it comes to the grueling months until graduation but even after that, my work doesn't actually stop. I actually had to write most of this at work, in between lunch breaks and short breaks during work hours and I'm mostly happy with it. _Mostly._
> 
> Thank you all for being patient enough and for continuously supporting this story! 
> 
> \--
> 
> I _loved_ writing this. Mostly because I get to play around with what it feels like to see it from a second-person perspective (in a sense that Chris is viewing the story as an outsider between the two main leads). Also, _**MY SUNSHINE BABY EMIL NEKOLA MAKES HIS APPEARANCE AND I AM LIVING.**_
> 
> Notes:
> 
> \- Charlie Golf are Chris's initials spelt out in International Radiotelephony Spelling Alphabet (IRSA) style wherein instead of saying CG (like see-gee), he spells it out as Charlie Golf so as to not confuse anyone listening in on their radio frequency as to what letters he was using. The same goes for Emil Nekola (Eagle November) and Yuri Plisetsky (Yankee Papa). I'm still not over "Yankee Papa", _oh my God._ For those curious, Viktor's would be Victor (lol) November. People will probably just call him November. 
> 
> \- моя звезда is a Russian term of endearment that means "my star". 
> 
> -A Koto is a thirteen-stringed instrument similar to the Chinese zheng/guzheng. I have this HC that Yuuri plays traditional instruments because I am such a slut for traditional music and I don't know, I just want Yuuri to play [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JDTp_YQizqE) song because ***incoherent wailing noises***
> 
> \- Schrader Old Sparky Cabernet Sauvignon is wine from Napa Valley, California and fetches for about a thousand dollars. 
> 
> \- Opera Cake is a French dessert with layers of almond sponge cake soaked in coffee syrup, layered with ganache and coffee buttercream, and covered in a chocolate glaze. It's _supposed_ to be bittersweet so it's supposed to be paired with sweet (maybe sparkling) white wine balance out the bittersweet taste. 
> 
> \- Gun safety rules dictate that unless you are ready to shoot, NEVER put your finger on the trigger. Keep your finger curled around the trigger guard but never on the trigger itself. This has been your (mini) gun PSA. (But seriously though, don't get guns.)
> 
> Extra Notes: 
> 
> \- The first scene is from Yuuri's perspective after his and Viktor's... um, fun-filled night from the previous chapter. The following perspective (Chris's) takes place a few days prior to that until it covers the weekend. Sorry if the structure was sort of confusing! <3
> 
> Without further ado, here is Chapter 4 of Assassin's Tango, "From Another Perspective".

Yuuri awoke to the sight of a blurry yet unquestionably unfamiliar ceiling. Disorientated from his lack of clear vision, his shoulders immediately tense and his first instinct is to run to safer grounds. His mind races to question where he was but the fog from his state of sleep from earlier has yet to dissipate. He tests out his arms and legs and finds that he can move them freely.

Okay, he wasn’t bound or gagged.

Hesitantly, Yuuri sat up and glanced around the room. Squinting his eyes, he can see boxy, modern, simple yet still opulent furnishings strewn about the room and find them oddly familiar.

Yuuri then realizes that was introduced to this place no more than a few hours ago.

It was only then he realized where he was and, more importantly, _who_ he was with and his tense shoulders subsequently relaxed and he let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

Yuuri turns his head to the side to look at the man lying on the space next to him. Viktor was sleeping peacefully on his side, with his face facing the direction where Yuuri was lying down moments ago. The sheets were barely covering anything, exposing smooth, pale skin that practically glowed in the pale morning light that shone through the vertical blinds by the windows and leaving nothing to the imagination.

His silvery blonde hair was splayed out across the pillow, with his fringe that usually covered his left eye spread across his forehead. Yuuri scoots a bit closer and moves the hairs away, giving him a full view of Viktor’s handsome features.

His hand strays from the sides of his face with Yuuri’s index finger tracing the lines of his jaw, pausing at the tip of his chin before continuing to moving to trace the other side of his face. From his touch, Yuuri can feel the slight trace of stubble on all the areas his finger covered. He imagines Viktor sporting a full Santa-beard and snorts at the mental image.

With the back of his finger, he traces his touch across his cheek until Yuuri’s finger reaches the tip of Viktor’s nose. Against his better judgement, he presses his finger down as if it were a button.

Viktor’s eyes immediately flew open, his pale lashes fluttering to blink the sleep away from his eyes. His blue eyes, under the bright light of the early morning sun, look powdery, maybe even cornflower blue.

“…This is a nice way to wake up in the morning.” Viktor notes, his pleasant tone low, probably from having just woken up. Yuuri flushes slightly and mutters a string of apologies, making a move to retract his hand, had it not been for Viktor’s quick reflexes catching his hand before it can be some distance away and intertwined their fingers together. He uses this hold on Yuuri’s arm to pull him down, sending him almost crashing forwards on his way to hit Viktor’s chest face first but Yuuri managed to catch himself with his other hand and subsequently threw a half-hearted attempt at a dirty glance at the Russian man.

“But I have better ideas on how you can make it even better.”

“N-No—“ Yuuri begins to say, trying to pull away but Viktor let go of his hold on Yuuri’s hand to wrap his arms around his neck instead, trying to pull him closer for a kiss. Yuuri turns his head sharply so that Viktor’s lips only met contact with his cheek instead, barely even grazing the corner of his lip.

“Morning breath.” Yuuri gasps, by way of explanation. 

Viktor’s grin was bright as the sunlight. “I don’t mind.”

“…I do.” Yuuri says pointedly. “I’ll kiss you later after you and I get the smell out of our mouths.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes. Pinky promise, even.” Yuuri says, rolling his eyes but giving Viktor a fond smile. To placate the man, he presses his lips lightly on his forehead before quickly pulling away, lest he wants to give Viktor the opportunity to do anything else.

“I get the feeling that you’re up to do anything.” Yuuri grumbles.

“So as long as it involves you, baby.” The Russian man replies with a cheeky wink. Yuuri rolls his eyes again and opts to kiss his forehead before pulling away to clamber out of bed. Viktor groans and pulls the blankets closer to his chest, which doesn’t really do much in terms of covering his lower half and his backside.

Yuuri takes a pair of sweatpants from the floor and slips them on, only noticing their loose fit when he takes into account the length of the legs.

“Ah, those would be mine.” Viktor notes, his eyes definitely raking in the sight of Yuuri’s half-naked state and the low-hanging sweatpants that were barely staying around his hips. “You look good in my clothes.”

“…Right.” Yuuri drawls, drawing out the sound and eyeing Viktor with a dubious stare. He excuses himself to go to the bathroom to shower first and Viktor resigns himself to the task of making breakfast for Makkachin.

Yuuri showers quickly and exits the bathroom and headed back to the bedroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist.  Yuuri finds that Viktor had drawn the vertical blinds to the side, giving him a wide view of the Chelsea outside through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Yuuri immediately tenses up, feeling very exposed.

While he doesn’t care much for modesty when on the field, Yuuri wasn’t on an assignment today so the circumstances of this and that are different. Yuuri didn’t like the idea of the residents of Chelsea to see him with only a towel covering him up while he’s in his birthday suit.

Hastily, Yuuri makes a bee-line for his bags and fishes out a pair of boxer briefs and black skinny jeans from the rest of the contents of his duffel bag. He was about to reach out for a shirt when he eyes the black Barney’s Fifth Avenue bag next to his other bag on the floor. He picks it up and carries it to Viktor’s walk-in closet so he could change there.

Inside the bag were two items when he expected that there would only be one, as Viktor’s words from yesterday would have him believe. As expected for a luxury department store, the items were designer. He owns several items like these but these were going to be his first two clothing that was to be used for his own, personal benefit.

The first item was a Tomas Maier cashmere, ribbed rollneck sweater in dark blue. The second was a Saint Laurent, slim-fit, velvet-trimmed wool-blend pea coat in coal black. He didn’t need the tag to know just how much it would be worth—he just knows that he can pay the monthly rent of a New York apartment with the money Viktor just used to pay for these.

Oh, he can hear all the Sugar Daddy jokes now, even when Phichit and Yuuko were literally miles away.

Well, whatever, Yuuri eventually thought as he brushed off the thought with a shrug of his shoulders. Yuuri wasn’t feeling self-conscious about it. It was Viktor’s choice, after all and they were both grown-ups so if he wants to… for a lack of better word, redistribute his wealth, he’s not going to complain… at least, for the most part.

It just means for Yuuri, however, that he’ll be using his undisclosed funds if he ever plans to buy anything for Viktor the next time the opportunity presents itself though it definitely wouldn’t be over-the-top.

Maybe he’ll ask him when his birthday would be. That would be appropriate, right?

After slipping into his boxer briefs and skinny jeans, he pulls on the sweater and notes that it fitted him just fine, clinging to his figure comfortably; the sleeves giving his shoulders the mobility he needed and the soft fabric that clung across his torso  emphasizing his slightly narrow waist. Yuuri glances at himself in the mirror and contemplates on whether or not he should wear his glasses or not.

He only ever wore contacts when he was on the field and had subsequently not packed them to wear but at the moment, he wasn’t on the field—he was at his boyfriend’s place and he was staying over for the rest of the weekend until he inevitably goes home tomorrow before his nine o’clock class.

Yuuri’s cheeks dust pink at the thought and his slightly cold hands fly to cover his flushed cheeks, effectively warming his hands.

It’s been his reality for weeks, even when that was the time in between when they last had seen each other but that was it—he had a partner, a romantic one, but the fact remains the same that the mere thought of it still gives the butterflies in his stomach to have a reason to get crazy and wild in there.

Phichit and Yuuko, despite their endless teasing, assured him that what he was feeling was normal—the butterflies in his stomach wasn’t a sign of him getting sick, nor was the constant rapid beating of his heart a sign of stress cardiomyopathy, especially when it happened whenever Viktor just looked his way.

It was all perfectly normal when you’re in love, or, at least for Yuuri’s case, he’s still falling down the depths of love.

He isn’t there yet, he is sure. Three weeks of knowing a man isn’t enough to say that he loved him but Yuuri liked Viktor enough. He was a breath of fresh air and a comforting presence; a bright splash of colour to his dull, dull grey life and he likes it that way. He likes it to stay that way for as long as he can have it.

Yuuri quickly shook his head and straightened up. Yuuri glances at himself on the mirror and tried to school his expression into a more presentable, non-blushing mess of a human being. Instead, to distract himself of his thoughts that were undeniably too early to fully grasp, especially on an empty stomach, he diverts his attention to the messy mop of black hair atop his head.

He contemplates on whether or not he should sweep it back or keep it loose as he normally would wear it. With it dry from the blow dryer, it was sticking out awkwardly in several places and Yuuri’s hands flew upwards to smooth down whatever stuck out too much. With the resolve to deal with his hair later, Yuuri strode out of the walk-in closet and made a bee line for the door.

Downstairs, Viktor was kneeling down beside Makkachin, patting her on the head and cooing soft Russian at her while the poodle ate. He was wearing sweatpants that could only be Yuuri’s, given the notable snug fit it had on Viktor’s lower half. The Russian man looked up and noticed Yuuri standing there, watching him.

His gaze immediately brightens even further, if that were possible, and his mouth goes into the shape of a heart as he gushes over Yuuri’s attire.

Yuuri can’t supress his blush and he shuffles his feet awkwardly, trying to break eye contact and eventually finding himself staring at his feet and the hardwood floor beneath them. The man was so… candid with his reactions. There were no holds barred in the way his sparkling cornflower-blue eyes sparkle rake in his form from head to foot.

And, his heart-shaped mouth was definitely doing strange things to Yuuri’s heart. He’s not even close to being in his fifties yet but he already feels the need for a pacemaker to keep his beats per second in check.

“What are you thinking about in that head of yours?” Viktor asks, his tone teasing. Yuuri looks up from his view of the floor to find that Viktor was already in front of him. His face gets hotter and he feels the urge to take a step back but Viktor laughs, extending his arms so that his hands grasp at Yuuri’s forearms and tugs him forwards, pulling him in for a hug.

His arms settle around Yuuri’s waist once their chests were pressed firmly together while Yuuri has both palms pressed against Viktor’s chest.

“Er,” Yuuri thinks for a bit. “Your smile?”

“Oh?” Viktor coos right in his ear. “What about my smile?”

Yuuri can’t help but shiver. His ears were always so sensitive. “…H…Heart.” He chokes out. He makes an attempt to escape but even he can attest to the fact that his efforts were half-hearted and weak.

When he peers up slightly, Viktor’s expression was that of mild confusion though he was clearly still putting on an effort to look jovial. “I… don’t follow…?”

“Your…. You have a heart-shaped smile when you get excited about something and I think it’s just adorable and you get really cute when you get all happy—” Yuuri replies hastily, words tumbling over themselves but is clear enough to be coherent. Viktor went still for about a second before he pulls Yuuri into a bone-crushing hug, his lips planting kisses all over the places that his mouth could reach.

If Yuuri were in a life or death situation, on a field assignment, this hug should have clued him in to immediately take a defensive strategy and brake his assailant’s nose at some point but he was at a disadvantage, given how this was a frontal attack and he was not armed—

What the hell is he even thinking about?

Viktor wasn’t an assailant, a target or a threat to him. He could literally do Yuuri no harm. He means that last part literally because even if Viktor was about to violently attack Yuuri, then he’ll show the Russian man why Aikido and Jiu Jitsu is the sport for the smaller man. 

He blanches momentarily at his own thoughts. His arms find their way to wrap them around Viktor’s own waist and pull him even closer.

“I can’t believe you find me cute! I’m so happy! My adorable Yuuri finds me cute!” Viktor says delightedly, murmuring into his right cheek as he continues to pepper him there with kisses. He begins to prattle in what sounds to be French and Yuuri’s limited knowledge on the language can only allow him to decipher adjectives that are basically synonyms to the word adorable.

At this point, no one can probably tell the difference between him and a ripe, red tomato.

Yuuri, in an attempt to steady himself, sighs in a fond yet exasperated manner and lightly tells Viktor to get off him so he can have a crack at making breakfast since he clearly didn’t do anything in the past twenty minutes while Yuuri was in the shower and getting dressed.

Viktor begins to protest, pouting slightly but Yuuri pecks him on the cheek before pulling away and striding towards the kitchen area, ignoring Viktor’s childish whines.

“The sooner you can do something about your morning breath, the sooner you can kiss me properly.” Yuuri reminds him, glancing over at Viktor from over his shoulder. It takes about three seconds—Yuuri counted—for comprehension to dawn on the man. He was urgently making his way up the stairs, exclaiming that he’ll be right back.

He hears the poodle bark and then patter over towards Yuuri. Makkachin sniffs his hand before ducking her head underneath it and asks for a pat. With a slight chuckle, Yuuri obliged to the dog’s request before he turned at his heels and dug into the fridge to search for things to cook.

By the time that Viktor got back downstairs, two plates of bacon and eggs were already placed on the dining table, along with two mugs of coffee. Yuuri

“I don’t know how you take your coffee so I went with plain black.” Yuuri says as soon as Viktor was at a closer range. “Want me to get you milk or…?” His voice trails away.

“Black is fine.” Viktor says happily. Makkachin sees her owner and immediately bounds towards him, nearly toppling him over but Viktor had better balance than that and easily stood his ground while his oversized puppy pawed at his chest.

After cooing a bunch of Russian commands, Makkachin pattered off to the couch and curled up there.

“What time is it?” Yuuri asks.

“It’s only twenty minutes to eight.” Viktor replies with a glance at his watch. He then gestures to the dining table. As Yuuri was the closest, he decided to help Viktor into his seat, the corner of his lip curling upwards to form a lopsided smirk. Viktor chuckles but plays along, seating himself on the offered chair.

Once Yuuri was settled into a seat too, they began to dig into their food. It took them only ten minutes to finish the contents of their plates and then five minutes to wash and dry them. They returned upstairs to get their shoes and other things ready.

“Blue is a good colour on you. I’ve been thinking about that since Buenos Aires.” Viktor notes as he saunters inside the walk-in closet. Yuuri follows after him though he stayed by the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watches Viktor looking contemplatively over a wide array of oxfords and loafers.

“Thank you.” Yuuri says, smiling. “You didn’t have to get me a gift, you know, but I still appreciate it but don’t go making a habit of it.”

Viktor glances over at him, giving him a warm smile. “You’re very much welcome.”

Once Viktor found a pair of shoes he was happy with, he sifted through his racks of Burberry, Coach and countless other brand-name overcoats, finally settling on a dark grey Burberry trench coat that complemented his grey and white pullover and black slacks.

“Ready to go?”

Yuuri nodded, taking his brand new pea coat and putting it on. After another double check, Viktor takes Yuuri by the hand and leads him out of the bedroom door.

 

\--

 

Christophe Giacometti knew from the moment Viktor had asked for permission to take a leave for the weekend, management wasn't going to hand it to him without question. Sure, they would still grant him permission (they'd be downright idiots if they refused) but Chris was sure that management will do everything in their power to find out why this was happening in the first place.

Chris arrives at work on Tuesday morning, parking his silver Lexus convertible beside Viktor’s sleek black Bentley Continental and pulling the top back up before he turns on the alarm and heads for the lift. He enters the lift and goes downstairs instead of up, intending to go to the third floor basement to make his way to the training facilities.

When he finally arrives at his floor, he walks down corridors, past other facilities that held other training classes until Chris finds Viktor where he thought he would be. As it was a Tuesday and Viktor wasn’t assigned any field assignments, he was scheduled to work on the junior field agents and help them brush up on their close combat training.

Viktor was a master of several martial arts—if Chris’s memory serves him right, he knew at least five—with each one deadlier than the last.

He was particularly partial to _Systema_ —the brutal martial art practice that hails from his native land—as well as _Krav Maga_. Right now, however, as what Chris could see through the one-way glass window, Viktor was currently engaging in the practice of _Eskrima_ , or better known as _Arnis_.  

He was dressed in all black, with a black belt that signified his authority wrapped around his waist, and was holding two rattan sticks with both hands, as was his opponent and was currently engaging in a particularly difficult sparring match.   

His opponent was a lithe-framed, quick-footed individual who was shorter than Viktor by a few inches. They were particularly youthful, dare he say maybe even androgynous. The young man was scowling so much, it might have been his default expression. His pale green eyes were narrowed slits as he defended or attacked Viktor with all the strength that Chris didn’t think the young man was capable of. It was youthful agility versus years of precise training.

One of Viktor’s rattan sticks falls out of his hands but he does not lose his composure. Instead, he keeps a level head and holds his grounds with just one rattan stick, even putting one arm behind his back—seemingly just to spite his younger opponent—blocking out attack after attack until he finds an opening and knocks his opponent to the ground, their empty hands splayed out on the floor. Viktor points the rattan stick to the centre of their forehead and narrows his eyes in an impassive yet still icy stare.

“Everyone, what are the mistakes you noticed in Junior Agent Plisetsky’s form?”

One of them raised their hands and Viktor pointed his rattan baton towards the raised hand. That one junior agent stood up and said in a clear voice,

“He kept his centre too open for an attack.”

“That’s right.” Viktor said with a curt nod. “Like most martial arts, the centre of the body is not supposed to be kept open. Attacking your opponent consistently might give you a chance to hurt them but leaving your defence open while you’re on the offensive is a big mistake, especially on the field.”

The junior agent whom Viktor referred to as Plisetsky narrowed his pale green eyes at Viktor, who wasn’t sparing him a glance anymore. After a few more explanations on form and the technique he used to disarm Plisetsky, Viktor commands everyone to stand up, grab their own pair of rattan sticks and find their own partners to spar with.

Viktor walks off, seemingly to grab some water and wipe the sweat from his face. Chris decides to stop ogling and go back upstairs. He walks down the empty corridor until he arrives back at the elevator and makes his way to his floor.

When he arrived at his floor, Chris had every intention to just dick around the lounge room. There were no assignments for him to work on and he did not want to address the files that were steadily growing and collecting dust around his work area.

His plans, however, were foiled when he looked at the memo that was taped to the top most manila envelope on the dusty tower atop his desk. He reads it and sighs, immediately making his way back to the elevators to go to the top most floor of the building.

Chris exits the lift and arrives at the foyer. Two men in dark suits were station in front of a pair of doors. One of them radios in through their earpiece and the other inputs a code into the keypad that was mounted on the wall. Ten seconds later, he hears a soft click and the door opens ever so slightly. He enters the premises and notices two more men dressed in black stationed by the doorway.

At the end of the modern, opulent office space stood a desk with two leather settees facing the front of the desk. An aging man, dressed a crisp, white long-sleeve with dark brown leather suspenders holding up dark slacks, with silver hair that fell to his shoulders and a receding hairline sat at the leather swivel chair behind the desk, his complexion peachy and his expression less so. His eyes, framed with age lines on all four sides, were narrowed at the image that was placed on the glass surface of his desk.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Chris said as soon as he was just merely a metre away from the glass-surfaced table and the man who sat behind the desk.

Yakov Feltsman was one of the higher ups. He was by far the most revered, not just because he was much more experienced than anyone else within the organization, with nearly thirty years of experience, but because he was the one holding the leash on Viktor Nikiforov; a feat which gives him most authority out of everyone else in the organization.

“Christophe.” Yakov said as soon as they met each other’s gazes, his bushy grey brows relaxing slightly but not entirely.

“Sit down, please.” He makes no move to indicate to which chair he indicated.

“It’s alright, sir.” Chris replied, tone bland to give nothing away. “I’ve been sitting down for quite a while. It’s not good for my legs.”

Yakov simply nodded. His eyes shot back to the picture on the surface of the table. Chris eyes it suspiciously and he is spared the effort of asking what the image contained as Yakov turns it to face his direction. Chris leans in a bit closer, only to find the image of Viktor and Yuuri kissing like it was the end of World War II and they were in Times Square; only the scenery was replaced with an equally crowded and rowdy town square in Buenos Aires.

Without preamble, Yakov says, “Vitya has been behaving differently ever since Buenos Aires and his actions might compromise his identity if he isn’t careful.” From his tone alone, Chris can tell that Yakov did not like the situation and where it seems to be heading.

Despite this, somehow, even when Chris himself has seen Viktor being a love-struck idiot right in front of his eyes, he doubts that Viktor Nikiforov will slip up in his façade. The man was careful, meticulous and a stubborn perfectionist underneath his childish, whimsy self. It just isn’t within the realm of possibilities.

“Your assignment for the weekend is to observe Vitya in the shadows. See how he acts; listen to how he talks. I want to know what are the changes that happened between him pre-Buenos Aires to the now.” Yakov’s crisp tone spoke without hesitation.

“You are to tail them without Vitya getting tipped off by your presence. More importantly, I want you to observe this new… beau of his. See what makes him seem so special to Vitya that this brought up change so quickly.”

It was a long time coming. In the two weeks since they arrived back from the assignment in Buenos Aires, Viktor has been acting differently. The changes were subtle at first, wherein he’ll smile at his phone very briefly before anyone could really take notice and take longer coffee breaks just to talk to his boyfriend on the phone at a secluded staircase that only Chris was privy to knowing, but it all culminated one day when he received the permission to take the weekend off.

Georgi Popovich was telling anyone who would listen to him say that Viktor honest-to-God skipped on his way to the elevator when he received the news; humming a song and all that. Chris, who knows Viktor a lot better than anyone else does (apart from Yakov, of course), wouldn’t put it past Viktor to pull off something like that but he usually did it with only Chris as his audience. He was mindful of his surroundings, after all. When Chris had heard it himself, all he could think about was how that was missing from the image was a flower crown and the scenery switched from a cold corridor to the Swiss Alps.

Chris has witnessed his rapid change at a closer proximity than anyone else; given their personal closeness to one another and their status as partners within the organization (with Yakov being the exception to that). He recalls Viktor’s smitten look during lunch at Fred’s and wishes once again that he had something strong to drink. 

Yakov’s voice broke through Chris’s idle thoughts when he asked, “Also, do you know the last name of this Yuuri person?”

Chris pauses for a moment before he replies, “I think Viktor mentioned that his name was Yuuri Katsuki.”

Yakov nodded before he dismissed Chris out of the room. Before he crossed through the door, he heard Yakov say something to the techies on the phone line to look up everything they knew about Yuuri Katsuki.

“Can I have a copy of his file, sir?” Chris asks, pausing just as he was about to pass through the door. Yakov looks at him for a moment before he gives him a curt nod and then gestures for him to go. Chris nods and walks out of the room.

He can chalk it up to both genuine worry over his friend and for safety precautions, considering the fact that he and Viktor were partners within this organization and a compromise in Viktor’s identity could heavily affect Christophe too.

 

\--

 

Chris receives Katsuki’s file later that night. He confines himself to his home office, carefully informing his husband that he’ll be working on a few things and didn’t want to be disturbed. His husband, also swamped with his own work, was willing to give him space and he was forever thankful for it.

With the office door closed and locked, the Venetian blinds are drawn to a close and all four corners of the room checked for bugs and cameras, Chris settles into his office swivel chair and turned on his iMac unit, logs into his account and filters through is mail until he finds the one he was looking for.

Katsuki’s file was a five-page file, which isn’t a whole lot if Chris really thinks about it. If Interpol knew about his history, he’d probably have a generous 500 MB file. In Viktor’s case, however, his would probably reach two-terabytes.  

Chris scans the image on the screen which a profile shot of Yuuri Katsuki taken by the school as his formal identification card. His dark hair was messy, with his fringe falling effortlessly over his forehead. He was cute, in a cinnamon roll sort of way. Yuuri had this doe-eyed look to him, which is reinforced by the fact that he had wide, brown eyes with thick lashes, though the image of innocence was slightly broken, given that his gaze was impassive and unyielding.

Chris almost found it intimidating to look directly into his eyes. _Almost._

The rest of his face was nothing to write home about. He had slightly rounded cheeks and a firm jaw-line. There was not an ounce of blemishes on his skin, which remained fair and clear, it seemed almost unfair. His lips were chapped on the photo and were formed into a thin, placid line. He looked too young for his age; so much so that he could pass for a high school student, at most but his less than cheery disposition gave him the image of a man who has gone through a lot and has reached a peak in his apathy.

Averting his gaze from the picture, Chris addresses his family background. Yuuri Katsuki was born on the cold, winter night of November 29 into a normal, nuclear family in a small coastal town called Hasetsu—located in the Saga Prefecture of Kyushu in Japan—and was the youngest child of Toshiya and Hiroko Katsuki and younger brother to Mari Katsuki, who was seven years older than Yuuri.

They ran a once-popular hot-springs resort, the oldest in the town and was owned by the Katsuki family since the Showa Era, until it shut down its doors when the economy within their little town tanked and they could no longer afford the upkeep to run it due to the lack of tourists, which were their main proprietors.

They struggled financially following the closing of their business so they sold their land and house and was set to move somewhere else in the Saga prefecture, though the details weren’t disclosed. It has been years since that happened and where the resort once stood was now just an empty plot of land with metal, mesh fencing wrapped around the perimeters, requesting the nearby residents to not enter the premises as constructions plans are apparently being made. 

Chris pursed his lips when he reads the police report on the second page, which listed the details of a horrific traffic accident wherein Yuuri was the sole survivor, effectively orphaning him at only sixteen years of age. There were photos taken from police database which included the pictures of the deceased, the car wreckage and then the sole survivor.

Sixteen-year-old Yuuri Katsuki was slightly pudgy, with a much rounder face that was strewn with cuts and bruises. One of his eyes and the rest of his head were covered in gauze. The rest of his body didn’t fare well either. There was a cast around his left leg and on his left arm. A neck brace was wound around his neck and gauze was wrapped around where cuts and bruises were prevalent.

His wide eyes were half-lidded in the picture and sunken down, devoid of any life and vigour they might have once held before the tragedy even happened. The insurance money was enough to cover the hospital bills and the funeral rites but nothing else, leaving Yuuri in the same financial state he has been when his family was still alive.

Following this, Yuuri was taken care of by the Nishigori family though only for a short while until he was transferred to the care of a relative from the US, who subsequently took the orphaned teenager once legal guardianship was granted to him back to the United States.

Chris narrows his eyes at the details concerning the mysterious family member. Koji Katsuki was a middle aged man with no family who was apparently related to Toshiya as some sort of distant relative, though the specifics were too murky to delve into, even with extensive research. They first settled in California, where Yuuri apparently lived in Orange County before they moved Midwest to Detroit, Michigan until they finally arrived on the East Coast, particularly in Connecticut.

After Yuuri turned eighteen, Koji Katsuki relinquished his guardianship over the teenager and Yuuri applied to college and has been self-sufficient ever since, maintaining his full-ride scholarship and earning pocket money by working at a nearby local ice rink as one of the instructors. There has been no communication between them since then and Koji Katsuki has faded into the background and hasn’t been heard from since then.

The rest of his file covered his various relationships. Phichit Chulanont was his college roommate, best friend, and confidant. He was the same age as Yuuri and came from Thailand. Like Yuuri, he was also orphaned—with his parents and sisters butchered in a botched house robbery attempt while he was out with friends so he was spared—and was brought over to the US by a mysterious relative, gone through the process of gaining citizenship and had their guardianship over him relinquished when he entered college as well.

Chris took particular notice of those details. It could either be a freaky coincidence or a pattern but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

Yuuko Nishigori (nee Ueda) was one of Yuuri’s childhood friends, she just moved to the US for greener pastures together with her husband, Takeshi Nishigori just sometime after Yuuri had left for the US, starting college roughly about the same time as Yuuri and Phichit had, making them the same year despite her being two years older than Yuuri or Phichit.

Other details included his hobbies, which Chris praises the IT department for actually managing to find this much detail about him. Yuuri seemed to be an extremely varied kid in terms of talents. He was a former figure skater and a ballet danseur; both of which are still hobbies he goes by though he doesn’t compete anymore.

He had an affinity for music, which included koto and the piano; the former being a thing of the past while the latter was still a practice he stood by today.

When Chris managed to get to his educational background, he found to his amazement that his academic background was definitely nothing to scoff at. For someone who seemed too busy with competitive ice skating and other hobbies, his grades never suffered and he maintained a high GPA and was one of the top three students of his school throughout primary and middle school, switching between first place to third place, at least. Upon arrival at the US, he did not attend high school but decided to take a GED and even the SAT exams, passing both exams with a score of over two thousand.

Shortly after Koji Katsuki’s guardianship over him was null and void, he applied and became a student at the University of Connecticut, studying in their Stamford campus, and majors in both Economics and Business Administration on a full-ride scholarship and maintained a clean 4.0 GPA throughout the four years of his college life, consistently taking summer classes to get more credits.

At the rate he was going, he was going to be giving the valedictory speech by May of this year.

Other details merely included his work, his history in figure skating wherein he won many local competitions but nothing else. Apart from his tragic family circumstances and being almost obnoxiously smart, he’s pretty vanilla.

He seems too good, too perfect to even be true but there he was. If he was putting all this as a façade then he’s one hell of a good actor. However, as too good as Yuuri seemed to be, Chris was somewhat inclined to believe most things written on his five-page file.

To be fair, though, with enough passion and determination, anyone can achieve whatever this Katsuki kid had done. Chris can attest to that, though he might not be able to be _that_ good at academics.

The Swiss man sighs, turning off his monitor and plucked off his eyeglasses from the bridge of his nose so he could rub at his eyes. After a few moments of resting his eyes, Chris turned the monitor back on and logs in to his Instagram account. He quickly types out Chulanont’s Instagram handle and quickly finds him and his numerous photos. He selects the latest one, posted literally just an hour ago, wherein Chulanont had posted a photo of Katsuki, sprawled on his bed with books and papers strewn about across the surface of the mattress, eyes closed and looking peacefully asleep.

Chulanont had captioned it, “Sleeping Beauty” and added one three-Z’s emoji.

The lighting and angle of the photo put Katsuki in a flattering position, even when his mouth was slightly agape (and was that drool coming out of the corner of his mouth?). Maybe if he sees him personally, Chris would have a more favourable opinion on his looks because, at the moment, he can’t really see anything so earth-shatteringly beautiful about him as Viktor claims he is.

Chris sees **v-nikiforov** amongst the thousand others who double-tapped on the photo and smiles with the underlying feeling of fond exasperation when he sees that Viktor has done to the same to older photos, once Chris checks on them.

 

\--

 

On Saturday morning, Chris was awake when his alarm started beeping. He kept his eyes closed, though, as grogginess still weighed heavily down on him like a fifty-ton weight. He would have continued to wallow in the comfort of his sheets, had it not been for the soft voice of his wonderful husband gently telling him right against his ear, “Darling, it’s seven in the morning. Time to wake up.”

“Five more minutes…” Chris grumbled, turning slightly to bury half his face against his pillows. He hears his husband chortle and incessantly but gently shakes him, coaxing him out of his sleep, until Chris groans in resignation and sits up.

His husband beams his handsome smile and kisses his forehead while muttering a good morning as soon as he pulled away before adding the fact that he already prepared breakfast downstairs, their cat has been fed and that he’ll be back with gifts when he returns next week from his business trip to California.

“I’ll miss you,” Chris says, giving his husband a lopsided smile.

“I’ll miss you more.” His husband replies, grey eyes smouldering with fondness. They share a light kiss or two before his husband straightens up and excuses himself out of the room to get his things ready.

Yawning, Chris slips out from under the duvet covers and gets his dressing gown from the backrest of a nearby armchair and slips it on before he makes his way out of the room. He was greeted immediately by a soft meow.

Chris looks down and smiles fondly at the white Persian cat and scoops it gently into his arms. The cat purrs contentedly and nuzzles its face against Chris’s chest.

Breakfast for today was a bowl of rolled oats with dried apricots and cranberries and topped with raisins and seasoned with a dash of cinnamon and then buttered slices of Zopf topped with some cheese. Chris took his coffee black and there was already a pot full of it by the coffee maker which he helps himself to. He gently places his cat on the island counter, who starts to get comfortable and curls up by a tray of food, probably to keep him company.

When his husband finally comes downstairs, he was carrying one big trolley bag and his brown leather suitcase in the other. Chris blows him a kiss and bids him a safe flight and continues to watch him as he disappears into the lift and only looks away when the lift doors have already closed.

After breakfast, Chris gets into the shower and dresses in his disguise. His clothes were dowdy and unassuming, which was the kind of look he was going for. He didn’t want to be recognizable to anyone and with the little amount of time he had to apply his make-up; it was safe to say that he looked nothing like Chris Giacometti.

He purposefully made his face and the rest of his exposed skin paler than his usual sun-kissed tan, pronounced his cheekbones and gave his cheeks a slightly hollowed look to give the appearance of a less healthy man. After slipping on a pair of thick-rimmed eyeglasses, Chris smiles satisfyingly to his reflection in the mirror.

 

\--

 

Chris parks his modified Toyota Camry a few cars away from Viktor’s Audi on the opposite side of the road. Viktor was already out of the car, leaning against the vehicle with his head ducked down and face illuminated slightly by the light of his smartphone.

He presses the lenses of the high-powered binoculars to his eyes, zooming in to survey Viktor‘s expression. He looked slightly worried or maybe impatient as Yuuri Katsuki was still nowhere to be found.

Chris’s angle was too poor to catch a glimpse of what was on his screen but from the movements of his fingers, he can tell that he was typing out something; possibly a message to his MIA boyfriend.

Several passers-by ogle at the car and the man who was leaning against it, looking nonchalant and model-like despite the dreary lighting, owing to the grey skies that loomed overhead. Chris can hardly blame them for gawking. Viktor’s sleek, shiny car might be an Audi but the price range on an R8 Coupe was nothing to scoff at and it helps that the driver and owner of the car were as captivatingly handsome as Viktor Nikiforov.

He watches Viktor flip his hair somewhat impatiently, his lips pulling down slightly as he looks at the screen of his phone. Chris wonders why he isn’t just going in. Eventually, however, Viktor’s attention was captured by someone. Chris directed his attention away from Viktor and scanned the brown-skinned man with dark hair and dark eyes instead. It was Phichit Chulanont, dressed head to foot in black, looking as if he was about to go out for a jog. The Thai man plucks out his white ear buds and greets Viktor with a genial smile and gestures his hand in a waving motion.

They were conversing in something that he could unfortunately not hear. Viktor’s car was bugged—not that he knows that though as Chris took great lengths to conceal that fact—but it was bugged inside so he couldn’t hear whatever they were saying while they were outside the car itself.

Whatever they were talking about, however, make Viktor chuckle eventually. After Phichit left for his jog, Viktor finally entered the premises and Chris sets down the binoculars and waits, leaning against the leather backrest of the driver’s seat of his car. He fiddles with the controls on the dashboard, opting to listen to music while he passes the time.

Twenty minutes had passed and by the time Ariana Grande has finished her duet with The Weeknd to _Love Me Harder_ , Chris sees Viktor exiting the school grounds.

There was a spring in his step and he was being overtly happy, looking like the very image that Georgi was telling people about last Monday. Chris takes the binoculars back into his hands and watches as he opens the back door of his car and throws the duffel into the back seat before he closes it again and waits, bobbing his head to a song unheard of.  

Eventually, Yuuri Katsuki exits through the gates, carrying a bag pack on one shoulder and his phone in the other. He was engaged in a conversation—again, Chris can’t hear anything—but it looked neither angry or happy; just neutral. He ends the call and greets Viktor by his car.

Chris can see that Yuuri was a few inches shorter than Viktor, standing at maybe around five-seven or five-eight and had more narrowed shoulders than Viktor did, as well as a svelte frame that was, unfortunately, less pronounced due to his dowdy clothing. Like the gentleman he was, Viktor opened the car door for Yuuri before he went around and got into the driver’s seat. 

“ _Phichit,_ ” Yuuri answers a question that Chris didn’t hear through the bug’s receiver.

“ _I really wasn’t going to do anything in the dorm rooms, you know._ ” Chris hears Viktor put in lightly. Chris zooms in his binoculars to see Viktor through the windshield and finds him smiling and Katsuki flushes, brows furrowing slightly and cheeks and the tips of his ears going a nice shade of pink.

Viktor looked at Yuuri like he hung the stars in the sky when he said, “ _For one thing, your dorm mates were crowding around the door when I got out of your room so they would have been listening._ " Chris watches, his mouth slowly opening further as Viktor reaches over and quickly pecks Yuuri on the cheek.

Viktor reaches to cup his cheek before saying, " _Second of all, you're tired; you didn't have much sleep. I wouldn't want you to have to strain yourself for something like sex._ ”

Wow, Chris muses with a snort. How courteous. Viktor was a very, very selfish man and whoever he’s banging usually gave him a lot of leeway to do what he wants, no matter how ridiculous he gets; him being courteous to his flavour of the week is surprising.

Well, that just made Viktor sound like a complete sociopath, Chris thought idly, but that really wasn’t the case. He just… did things at his own pace. He’s never hurt his previous partners with the underlying knowledge and full intention of hurting them.

Chris shakes his head. He needed to focus on the task at hand. He hears Yuuri mutter a thank you before he sighs in exasperation as he asks when his sex life will stop being the heated topic of discussion within his social circle.

Viktor doesn’t offer a reply, save for an amused laugh.

Chris watches as Viktor fiddles with the controls of his dashboard until the bug detects music and plays it at his end. It was a soft melody that starts with the low, melancholic hum of the violins before the piano starts to accompany the violin’s melody.

“ _Einaudi, right?_ ” Yuuri says. “ _I play some of his pieces, mostly from his earlier albums._ ” The Japanese man elaborates. The IT department really did their thorough research on the young man after all though Chris would like to see and hear it for himself to believe his words.

Chris follows Viktor’s Audi from behind. The bug detects nothing other than the music until Yuuri breaks the silence between the two of them and, with his reticence and shyness evident, asks Viktor an armour-piercing question—

“ _Not that I’m accusing you or anything but didn’t you say that you worked a boring office desk job?_ ”

Viktor hesitates, “ _Yes… why do you ask?_ ”

Yuuri clears his throat before he asks, “ _Um… well, I was wondering how, with that kind of job, how can you afford an Audi Coupe?_ ”

After a while, Viktor offers in a sheepish tone, “ _Being a member of the board is a boring office job, my star.” He lies smoothly. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it so I was just being vague. I’m sorry if I was technically lying to you._ ”

He was still lying but there was some truth to his words, even if he wasn’t phrasing things correctly. Viktor had a profound influence within the organization.

Unlike everyone else, he was raised within this environment ever since Yakov took him under his wing. He was better than anyone else within this line of work and knew it too, but unlike a certain someone they know, he doesn’t peacock. People just know and he doesn’t have to say or do a single thing.

If Yakov didn’t exist, then there would be no one keeping a leash on him. Yakov is the only one within the organization who is capable of grounding him as he’s the one holding his leash. Viktor may be their best asset but he is also their worst nightmare.

If his previous lovers gave him leeway, the organization would bow on their knees and kowtow in forgiveness should they ever test his patience since Viktor had nothing to lose; therefore, held nothing precious that could be used against him.

That notion seems to be changing, however, but only time will actually tell if that were really the case or Chris was just getting ahead of himself.

“It’s okay.” Yuuri hastily puts in. " _I'm glad that you weren't being specific with your position at work in the presence of my friends because aside from teasing me about my sex life, you can expect all the Christian Grey jokes they'll be making just to piss me off._ "

Yuuri attempts to joke and it works, for the most part, as he can imagine Viktor pulling a mock-horrified look on his face as he replies,

“ _I would have thought I was a better man than Christian Grey—_ “

Yuuri hastily cuts in, exclaiming that he was better than a fucked-up fictional character and begs for the subject to be dropped. Viktor hums in affirmation. They stop at a red light, with Chris’s Toyota right behind the Audi’s tail. Viktor reaches over the back seat and Chris spies the black Barney’s back, which he hands over to Yuuri.

“ _I saw it and had to get it for you.” Viktor gushes. “I hope you like it._ ”

Yuuri mutters that Viktor didn’t need to get him a gift, but clutched the bag in his arms protectively either way. Viktor mentions that he hasn’t even looked inside yet and hopes that everything he bought will fit him fine, adding the fact that he had to get help from Chris and owed him another bottle of Dom for Chris’s efforts in the search for “The Perfect Gift”.

“ _Chris?_ ” Yuuri asks.

“ _He’s the best friend I mentioned._ ” Chris can hear the slight fondness in his tone and the Swiss man feels a satisfied smile creep up his face before he managed to school his expression properly before anyone could notice. Eventually, Yuuri asked where Viktor lived and the Russian man has the nerve to say that Yuuri has to see it for himself.

 

\--

 

Chris found it difficult to spy on the two when they managed to arrive at Viktor’s doorman-handled building. For one, Viktor lived in the penthouse and the man was thorough enough to have the place modified for security purposes, meaning Chris’s presence would be detected even if he were to attempt to enter the premises.

So, he had to do it in the most difficult way. Chris checked in at a nearby hotel that towered over Chelsea and managed to get a view of Viktor’s penthouse. There was absolutely no way he could get a clear shot of the two, given the distance and various other circumstances so Chris settles for an alternative method—thermal imaging.

Chris got his equipment from his car and set up by the window that overlooked the neighborhood and had a view of Viktor’s building, positioning the thermal imaging camera in the direction facing the glass front of Viktor’s penthouse.

In the image reader that was streaming on the encrypted laptop on the floor in front of him, the thermal images showed two bipedal figures and one four-legged one, with one figure being toppled over by whom Chris assumes to be Makkachin.

“This isn’t enough,” Chris mutters under his breath. He needs clear images of these two, not their heated silhouettes.

He takes out his phone and calls a certain number and waits for it the person on the other line to pick up. Eventually, the ringing stopped and a bright, cheery voice spoke on the other line. “ _Yo, what’s up, Chris?_ ”

“Hey, Emil.” Chris greets pleasantly. Emil Nekola was their resident tech wizard. A certified MIT graduate with the brains of Stephen Hawking but the excitability of a yapping (but still adorable) puppy, he was the only one Chris can ever think of who has the ability to do what he wants to be done at the moment.

“Can’t talk too much right now but I need you to do something for me. Think you could do it?”

“ _I’m at your disposal,_ ” Emil says with a laugh. “ _What do you need?_ ”

“Can you hack into Viktor’s security cameras and give the video feed to my laptop?”

He hears Emil mutter something before he hears his reply, “ _Sure but it’ll take some time. Viktor’s security systems are tricky. It’ll be like hacking the Pentagon, you know?_ ” He lets out a laugh but then says, “ _Give me three to four hours at best…. a whole day at most._ ”

Chris sighs but agrees to the terms anyways. He can’t do anything about it. He’s no tech-whiz like Emil Nekola and thermal reading shows that the two aren’t doing anything but just stand there.

“Okay. Four hours, max.” Chris says finally.

“ _Okay. What kind of unit are you using? I need you to give me remote access to it so I can give you the video feed of Viktor‘s security cameras when we have it._ ”

“Whatever you need,” Chris says vaguely. “Now, what’s a unit?”

After Chris is given a crash course on laptop models and IP addresses and whatever techno-babble bullshit that goes through his other ear, he simply straightens up, gets to his feet and waits.

Stakeouts were the most boring assignments, even more so when it’s done alone. In fact, these kinds of assignments were usually beneath him and his caliber but Chris had an advantage in these circumstances, given the fact that he knows Viktor so if he does anything out of the ordinary, Chris will be able to tell that it is unlike him.

On the surface, especially during work hours, Viktor was like an Ice King—he was aloof and somewhat cold-hearted; with a steely, icy gaze that makes people shiver, as if they were exposed to the bitter, winter cold. Despite being amicable and polite, most people are wary of him as they have the full knowledge of his capabilities. Hsi facade hardly breaks, at least in front of people.

But all that changed after Buenos Aires. In the blink of an eye, Viktor was changing. But there was a danger of his change. Viktor was suddenly too open with his feelings and while that really shouldn’t be an issue if he were a normal, average Joe—Viktor Nikiforov wasn’t that; quite the opposite really.

To be blunt, Viktor was making himself too vulnerable. That much was obvious with the careless way he’s displaying his feelings for his solitary person. Viktor was a man with no emotional ties to anything, save for his dog, so for him to be more open with his feelings after simply meeting one person and getting to know them in the few weeks they’ve been apart, Yakov and Chris’s worries for Viktor’s well-being, and by extension the organization, are not unfounded.

If he were too careless, if Viktor was too impulsive, it could lead to… unsavoury situations in the future. Biting his lip, Chris resolves to talk to Viktor about this matter.

He straightens up on his seat and gets to his feet, walking towards the mini-fridge in search for something to drink. Against his better judgment, he didn’t return to look over the video feed of the thermal imaging cameras until two hours had passed.

 

\--

 

True to his word, Emil managed to bypass Viktor’s security measures, which he relays to Chris wasn’t easy at all. Viktor had approximately twenty, state-of-the-art hidden cameras in his penthouse apartment, with each camera’s view showing most of the room at large, depending on where it was located.

The thermal cameras became obsolete after a torrential downpour hit the city so Chris was thankful for the fact that Emil managed to hack into Viktor’s system at record time. Emil said that it wasn’t exactly easy but he had all the IT department work on it.

They still managed to hack into it though but for only for as long as Viktor needed to be surveyed. There could be a slight chance that Viktor could use the connection Emil has on his systems to hack into Emil’s own system and given the fact that Viktor was formidable in almost all aspects of life, the Czech man would rather not risk the system he built himself to crumble in the hands of an irate Russian hit man.

Chris was currently overlooking the camera view from Viktor’s bedroom, with the camera seemingly mounted at the far corner of the room, near the main doorway, and pointed directly towards the bed and the rest of the space surrounding that main focal point.

The view shows the two looking the like the picture of domestic bliss, wearing baggy sweatpants and casual shirts and cuddling on the bed, with Viktor leaning against the headboard while Yuuri was in between his legs, pressing his back to Viktor’s chest while the older of the two had their arms around him.

They seemed to be talking about something but Emil relayed to him that Viktor’s cameras only captured video feed and didn’t have any audio options to it, meaning Chris would have to learn how to lip read and fast.

Something Viktor had said made Yuuri laugh and Viktor had a sheepish, almost disappointed look on his face when he made his reply. Yuuri hastily spoke out and Viktor seemed relieved with his answer.

They talked for hours. Seriously. Chris almost couldn’t believe it. They slipped out of their lengthy talking sessions to make out like teenagers, changing positions on who’s straddling who before they slipped back into talking, talking and more talking.

They seemed blissfully happy with just that. Chris sort of knows why, if he’s guessing things correctly. They could be getting to know each other—saying more personable things that can’t be easily said over the phone through text and lengthy calls. It was heartwarmingly sweet that if Chris wasn’t prone to doing that if he was away from his husband for too long, he’d find it incredibly and grossly cheesy. 

Eventually, Makkachin has to bring the two out of their little, rose-coloured bubble and they exit the room with the poodle in tow. Chris quickly shifts to another camera’s view, this time overlooking the living room before quickly transitioning to the kitchen where the two seem to be headed.

Yuuri gets to work, preparing their dinner while Viktor simply hangs about by the island counter after he was done feeding Makkachin. They were having another discussion, which seemed to be less lost-in-their-own-world and more serious if he was reading their expression correctly.

For a brief moment, he sees Viktor’s shoulders tense before he quickly schools himself and gives Yuuri an answer to a question he must have asked.

Chris resolves that the next time he goes to Viktor’s place, he is definitely going to have ever nook and cranny bugged because not hearing their conversation was the very definition of frustrating.

Minutes later, with their plates cleared of food and the plates and wine glasses safely, replaced back into their cupboards, Yuuri walks off towards the living room area, moving closer to the windows so that he had a view of the city outside. He seems to be looking over the pool but the camera’s angle made it difficult to see his expression. He just seemed to be looking at the rain and Viktor soon joined him, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist.

They stay like that for a while until Yuuri points towards the usually untouched Steinway & Sons grand piano and Viktor excitedly ushers him towards it, eases him down on the bench. He moves away for a bit to prop up the piano’s lid before settling on the small space beside Yuuri, who moves away slightly to give his boyfriend a bit more sitting space.

After Yuuri finishes one song, they have a short-lived conversation wherein Yuuri’s brows are mostly furrowed throughout it until they relaxed and he put on a more pleasant expression as he played another song.

They went at it for a while—a long while, actually. The rain had since stopped ten minutes past eight and they were still going at it. After another song, they break into the conversation once again and Yuuri flushes at whatever words were spewing out of his mouth. Viktor can’t seem to hold back anymore and takes the sides of Yuuri’s face in his hands and presses their lips together.

It was Yuuri who intensified the situation, pressing himself further towards the older man and their kiss becomes more urgent until they eventually pull away.

They stand up and Yuuri leads Viktor to the upper floors and Chris knows immediately where this situation is going. Part of him wants to watch but another part of him doesn’t want to be sexually frustrated in the middle of an assignment.

His more logical side overrides his wanting to watch free, unedited porn and he checks back on the two sometime later when they seem to have fucked enough to get it out of their systems and were already drifting off into blissful sleep, covered in Viktor’s duvet with their clothes from earlier strewn about in different parts of the room.

Chris keeps his laptop turned on as he retreats to the main living room, ordering room service since he hasn’t had dinner yet, given his attention was focused on the lovebirds. After eating his fill of a Caprese salad and bruschetta, accompanied with some aged Trebbiano white wine, Chris turns in for the night, setting his alarm for five in the morning.

 

\--

 

Despite the surrounding area around Central Park having numerous vantage point options, those options become obsolete when nature is taken into consideration. The urban park was lush with trees and shrubbery. Chris’s original plan was to survey the two from a high point so that he can be out of eyeshot and will be able to survey them from ways away but it was a moot option when he remembered the foliage and greenery that Manhattan’s Central Park boosted.

He doubts those two are going to go anywhere too open, which means that Chris will be forced to go on foot and survey them from a closed position.

He feared his option. No matter how enamoured Viktor was with Yuuri, he’s still going to be aware of his surroundings. If he spotted Chris, even while he was in his disguise, far too often, he’d find it suspicious immediately and a confrontation is something Chris isn’t looking forward to.

Not that he couldn’t hold his own against Viktor should the situation come to that, but this assignment was supposed to be done in secrecy and Viktor wouldn’t be pleased if he were to know that Chris was tailing him under their superior’s orders.

After he hides his equipment set-up and keeps it out of eyeshot, Chris gets goes to the bathroom to work on his disguise. He stuffs his hair in a hairnet and places the wig over his head, applied his make-up to contour the lines of his facial features and put on a set of dowdy clothes that was different from yesterday’s ensemble.

He can’t do anything about his voice but he can use his language skills to use to take in the guise of a foreign tourist. Chris shoulders a large hiking bag, stuffing the hotel pillow to give it the appearance of being full with items. He puts on a pair of plastic-framed glasses and resolves to buy a map of Central Park once he gets there and sets off out of his hotel room.

 

\--

 

It was easy to spot Viktor. Chris didn’t have a hard time looking for them, given the fact that he was the only silver-haired man that didn’t have wrinkles on his face. Viktor had actually taken Chris’s advice seriously and was walking around with Yuuri in Central Park, first taking him to the zoo where they cooed and took pictures of various animals before they settled at the Dancing Crane café for a short break.

Out of everyone else in the entirety of the park, they stood out the most for the way they acted towards each other. They were so picturesque, it was almost irritating to watch them act so in-love. Viktor didn’t even want chairs to put distance between them, which resulted in a compromise wherein Yuuri was sat at Viktor’s lap while they were looking over at their pictures from the zoo, uncaring about the public setting and certainly not caring about the food that was brought out to their table, unless they were feeding it to each other, that is.

Chris was situated at a table some distance away but not a whole lot as he still had a clear shot of them. Chris took notice of Yuuri’s outfit, which seemed to be the items that he and Viktor picked out for him at Barney’s.

The Swiss man had to admit—he looked good in them. Dark clothes suited the young man, given his fair skin and even darker hair. Yuuri may not be conventionally handsome but Chris can somewhat see why Viktor keeps on raving about Yuuri’s beauty. He was beautiful in his own way; with silky raven-black hair that was swept back; plump lips form into a placid, delicate smile; soft cheeks that seem too irresistible not to pinch and large, soulful eyes framed behind blue half-rimmed eyeglasses.

Viktor looked his usual, suave-looking self, dressed in semi-casual clothes and looking as effortlessly handsome as he usually does, with his platinum hair shining underneath the weak sunlight, smouldering cornflower-blue eyes that were framed with, long silvery lashes and charming, thousand-megawatt smile directed solely at the person he had sitting on his lap, who returned an equally charismatic smile of his own.

To reiterate, they were picturesque; they could hardly seem real but there they were, alive and breathing and looking at each other as if one had hung the stars in the sky.

They were gathering an audience, with some muttering under their breath, asking to themselves if the sickeningly sweet lovebirds could get a room at the nearby Ritz-Carlton Hotel or if they were filming a scene for something and were glancing around for the tell-tell signs of film crews and cameras. Others were starting to mistake them for models and searched fruitlessly for the cameras again until opinions started rolling in about Yuuri and Viktor’s looks and people were now torn between who was more beautiful between the two of them.

When Yuuri finally looks up and somehow breaks out his love-induced reverie, and then sees that they’ve gained an audience, his resulting pink cheeks and red-tipped ears caused breaths to hitch and heads to make double-turns. Chris had to blink rapidly too because he hasn’t seen something more adorable than a beautiful man crumples into an embarrassing mess.

Yuuri tried to climb out of Viktor’s lap, his face getting progressively redder even as his eyes were glued to the pavement while Viktor simply laughs it off, trying to not let him escape (though Yuuri’s attempts were rather half-hearted, anyways) until he concedes with Yuuri’s idea about going on their carriage ride, delightedly taking Yuuri by the hand and leading him away.

People who had gone into trances snapped out of their daydream and tried to restart normal conversation and failed for the first few attempts. Chris finishes picking at his snack of greasy fries and milkshake and follows after them, taking out his map from the pocket of his cargo-jeans—one word: cringe-worthy—and acts out his part of a lost tourist. He tries to not make himself too obvious. He paces around, goes around in circles until he tries to pull an exasperated face and stalks towards forwards with his nose still buried in the map until he collides with someone and that someone was just the one person that he wanted to see up close.

“Mi dispiace, mi dispiace!” Chris exclaims in Italian, one of his hands gripping the map while the other was frantically waving about. “Stai bene?”

Yuuri Katsuki’s eyes widen slightly before he says, “Are you okay, sir? I’m sorry, I don’t understand you very well…”

Chris tries to pull a confused expression on his face until Viktor steps in, flashing Chris with a patient smile. “Tutto bene, signore?”

“Ah, sì, sto bene. Scusa per il disturbo. Non stavo guardando dove stavo andando.” Chris says hastily but with a grateful tone in his voice.

“Non è un problema, signore.” Viktor says, still smiling. He puts an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and leans closer to ask if he was okay, to which Yuuri nods in affirmation. With a satisfied smile, he raised his head and asked Chris, “Hai bisogno di aiuto?”

“Ah, sì, grazie!” Chris lets out a sigh that is supposed to indicate his relief. He begins to ask Viktor as to where Pulitzer Fountain was, gesturing vaguely at the map in his hands. Viktor kindly points it out to him while Yuuri simply keeps quiet, waiting for Viktor to finish. When they finally did, Chris was forever thankful and apologized to Yuuri again, deliberately butchering the pronunciation of his apology in his convincing Italian accent and putting his hands over Yuuri’s shoulders.

He can feel the young man tensing from the way the muscles on his shoulders had moved underneath his touch. From the corner of Chris’s eyes, he can see Viktor’s shoulders tensing too and his smile was bright yet was so painfully fake. Chris would have kissed Yuuri on both cheeks, had it not been for the fact that Chris has never seen a jealous Viktor before and he wasn’t sure if he’d like to witness it for himself while he’s in a disguise and was on an assignment.

He pulled away and headed off to the direction of where the Pulitzer Fountain was located, thanking Viktor from over his shoulder again and buried his face in the map in his hands once again.

Once out of the other two’s eyeshot, Chris paused and pulled out a transceiver from the pocket that was on the sleeve of his camping bag. He leaned against a tree, hiding from view of everyone else at the park, and tried to find the frequency in which he could he could hear from the bug he implanted on Yuuri when he put his hands on his coat just a while ago.

After fiddling with it for a few minutes, he finally managed to hear something and hastily put in headphones in the audio jack. The audio quality wasn’t the greatest, considering there was some distance between him and the target, but Chris can finally hear their conversations again.

“ _—iktor, are you okay?_ ”

“ _I’m fine, моя звезда._ ” His tone had a sort of hardness in the way he said it, like he was forcing himself to believe in his own words. Yuuri definitely wasn’t convinced but seemed amused when he replied,

With a slight chuckle, he said, “ _I guess I learned something new about you._ ”

“ _Oh?_ ” Viktor’s voice came on again. “ _Penny for your thoughts, then?_ ”

“ _You get jealous fairly easily._ ” Somehow, Chris notices the underlying smugness in the way he inflected his tone, even if it was subtle.

Viktor laughs. “ _Only to you, моя звезда._ ”

Chris can attest to that. Viktor was never jealous—a man who can have anything he wanted and can discard things as easily as he gets them doesn’t get jealous.

That changed considering Yuuri was put into the equation. God, it was always him and Chris was sure he was going to be an exception to most things involving Viktor. Things were just starting.

“ _I noticed it when I mentioned that you weren’t my first kiss._ ” Yuuri’s tone was casual, probably even teasing.

“ _I was placated when you said no one can compare to me._ ” A sense of pride and smugness oozes from his words. Yuuri’s words definitely boosted Viktor’s ego. “ _Who was your first kiss, then?_ ” Viktor asks.

“ _Yuuko,_ ” Yuuri said simply. Chris remembers a name like that popping up in Yuuri’s five-page file. Yuuko was the name of a childhood friend of Yuuri’s from Hasetsu but details of her weren’t explored.

“ _Oh,_ ” Viktor says, sounding dumbfounded. “ _Did you two date, then?_ ”

Yuuri laughs. “ _No. It wasn’t even planned. More of an accident, really. We collided with each other and bumped lips but more so noses. It was a very… bloody mess._ ” After a short pause, he continued, “ _We don’t ever talk about it so take it to your grave._ ” Yuuri warns lightly.

“ _Ouch._ ” Chris can imagine Viktor wincing at the image of bumping noses so hard that you’d pop a blood vessel for it. “ _Okay then… how many others have you kissed then?_ ”

There was a pause, probably for contemplation but Yuuri didn’t get to answer as Viktor exclaims that he’s found an empty horse carriage and proceeds to rent it for a ride around the park and then to the Balto statue.

There was a short chuckle then followed swiftly with a giggly, “ _After you, Sir Katsuki._ ”

“ _Why thank you, Lord Nikiforov._ ” Yuuri says, also struggling to sound completely serious. Because they started moving, the audio feed was getting choppier and choppier with the growing distance so Chris had to walk once again.

To most people, he’d just look like a lost tourist who was listening to music but really, he was listening to two grown men mocking Victorian-era mannerisms in bad British accents and giggling like schoolgirls with each quip they make. Once, he even heard the carriage driver laughing with them.

Chris was already hiding nearby when they arrived at the Balto statue and by then, he has seen (or rather, heard) a whole other side of Viktor Nikiforov he’s never seen (or heard) before.

His first impression of Viktor has always been the same as what others think of him—an untouchable, cold-hearted ice king whose very icy stare can reduce anyone to an anxious mess. As they got to know each other and got comfortable around each other’s presence, he’s seen him be impulsive, careless and even childish but he’s never really, truly seen Viktor happy. Like a world-class actor, he can fake a smile; he can fake a hearty laugh and he can fake his feelings and Chris’s closeness to him has made him very aware of what is faked and what is genuine. He hardly ever shows it so when it manifests, Chris would know.

Chris looks at Viktor from afar and even at a distance, he can see the brightness in his smile and the sparkles in his eyes and it was only when he looked at Yuuri. Viktor hardly cares for the statue when he’s seen it a thousand times before—not when he was looking at Yuuri Katsuki as if he were a masterpiece made flesh and bone that deserved to be ogled at.

“ _Viktor?_ ” Chris hears Yuuri saying softly. Chris looks on as Yuuri has his hand on Viktor’s sleeve, head tilted upwards as he gazes at Viktor. “ _Is there something on my face?_ ”

“ _Hm?_ ” Viktor hums distractedly. “ _What was that, моя звезда?_ ”

Yuuri chuckled. “ _You were looking so intently at my face, I was wondering if there was something on it._ ”

“ _No, моя звезда. The question is what isn’t on your face._ ”

“ _…Which is?_ ”

Viktor leans down and presses his lips against Yuuri’s forehead. “ _My lips._ ” He mutters, sounding as if he were saying it while his lips were still pressing against Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri starts getting giggly again, muttering something about Viktor being the literal embodiment of cheese, as Viktor peppers his face with kisses and stops when Viktor finally claims his lips.

Yuuri throws his arms around Viktor’s neck and when they pull away, they press their foreheads together and agree to walk their way to Bethesda Terrace. They pull away but intertwine their hands together and continue on their way along the trail.

The Swiss man finds himself in an awkward situation wherein his personal investment in Viktor’s happiness as a friend and his loyalty to his work are in conflict. When he looks at Viktor again as he looks at Yuuri Katsuki as if he hung the stars in the sky, Chris feels like such a dick for intruding on something so genuine and private; especially when he takes into consideration that Viktor considers him—Chris—as his best friend.

But Chris had an assignment to do and what he was doing was for Viktor and everyone else’s safety. So, despite really not wanting to anymore, Chris followed after them.

 

\--

 

The two had lunch at the Loeb Boathouse. Viktor followed through with Chris’s advice, ordering some finger sandwiches for them to share before their main course and fed them to Yuuri. They were so sickeningly sweet that people were shooting looks of envy (or disgust at their overwhelmingly cheesy antics). Shortly after their lunch, they immediately rented a row boat to drift off on the lake.

Viktor was holding the oars while Yuuri relaxed back at the stern of the small boat. He had a parasol in his hands and was twirling it almost absentmindedly as he gazed at the greenish waters, occasionally leaning a bit closer to the edge to dip his hands into them and then wince at the coldness.

Chris had to make do with a swan-shaped paddleboat since Yuuri and Viktor had rented out the last rowboat and kept at a short distance away from the two. He took out a DSL camera out of his hiking bag and proceeded to take photographs of the two of them; occasionally turning away to snap a photo of something else when he thought that Viktor’s attention might be on him.

Eventually, the silence on the other line was broken when a voice spoke, “ _Do you think we’re part of a Nicholas Sparks novel, yet?_ ” Viktor asks idly, earning a chuckle from Yuuri.

“ _I never pegged you for a Nicholas Sparks fan. Here I thought we were pretending to be Victorian-era aristocrats._ ”

“ _I’m not one to read his works, granted, but I have seen the movies,_ ” Viktor explains. “ _The Notebook is one of my favourites… even if the characters were so mind-numbingly infuriating because of how stubborn and stupid they were._ ”

Yuuri pauses for a bit before he says warily, “ _I’ve seen it before but I don’t want to be caught in the rain or even attempt at kissing the rain, though. How did anyone find that scene romantic, anyways? Logically, there’d be rainwater pouring all over your face. How can you even stand to kiss anyone with water on your face? Wouldn’t you feel like drowning since there’s water clogging up your nose and then your mouth is occupied with something else?_ ”

Chris sees the younger man pulled a face. Viktor, in turn, lets out a carefree laugh before he replies, “ _Maybe because you don’t have to think about the logistics of practicality when all you want to do is kiss them. Everything else but them is basically white noise. Nothing matters other than the other person and their tantalizingly kissable lips._ ”  

Chris takes notice of Viktor’s eyes shifting their focus slightly from the upper half of Yuuri’s face down to his lips, but only for the briefest of moments. There was a pause and Chris sees movement from Yuuri as he straightens up from his relaxed position against the stern of the boat and leans forward, resting the tube of the umbrella on his shoulder blade. With a slight incline of his head off to the side, he said,

“ _…Is that your roundabout way of saying you want to kiss me now?_ ” Yuuri’s voice suddenly changed in tone. His voice went low and soft in a seductive drawl.

“And here I thought you were much franker than this,” Yuuri adds with a dark chuckle. Chris can actually hear Viktor’s barely audible gasp because of how close they were. With his camera, he zoomed in a close as possible, adjusting the lenses until he got a clearer shot of the two and managed to catch a photo of Viktor, eyes slightly wide and mouth parted ever so slightly; clearly the look of a man who was at a loss for words.

Yuuri leaned closer and pulled down the parasol, shielding them on one side, which was, unfortunately, the side where Chris was situated at.

Eventually, when all was said and done, they returned the boat and headed off, hand-in-hand, out of Central Park and into a taxi cab. Chris hears their plans to go to Coney Island, which Yuuri was particularly excited about and his enthusiasm was apparently contagious as Viktor proclaims that he’s never been to Coney Island before.

Chris decides to return to the hotel to change out of his clothes, get some food in him and then get some help from the IT guys once again.

Emil responds again and agrees to track down the bug that Chris had implanted on Yuuri and track down their movements with GPS tracking. Sure enough, the two were heading for Brooklyn.

“ _Anything else you need?_ ” Emil asks. Chris hears slurping sounds and then a distant burping noise to which Emil apologizes for but the Swiss man simply shrugs it off.

“Can you hack into any surveillance cameras around Coney Island and send the video feed to my laptop?” He asks. Chris presses the device between his shoulder and ear as he adjusts his belt.

Emil hums in affirmation. “ _Do you plan to tail them to Coney Island too?_ ”

“No, I’ll keep my distance. There was a small confrontation earlier so I’d rather avoid physical contact with the two of them for now. Anyways, what are the good vantage points around Coney Island?”

Emil directs him to a towering high-rise off to the side with an open view of the amusement park that has a convenient lack of security systems and an unlocked fire escape stairwell off the back of the building that reaches to the very top of the building. Chris hears a few clicks of the keyboard before Emil excuses himself and puts Chris on hold, allowing him to slip on a black shirt and his shoulder holsters with his two Glock 19 pistols and puts a dark Burberry trench coat over his person, not bothering with the buttons but loops the belt around his waist to keep the coat closed and tight around his body. He takes off his coloured contacts and replaces with his clear prescription ones.

Emil returns on the other line and then said, “ _I’ll send someone over to give you one of my laptop units instead so they can work on the technical things for you, if you ever need it. Don’t worry; it’s not the new guy since you said you don’t want to work with him even if your life depended on it. There’s also an earpiece if you want to communicate with me if you need any more help. There’s a small window of opportunity for it to be tracked with each time you make a call to this line._ ”

“I thought your line is untraceable?”

“ _Yeah, but you can’t be too careful when it comes to technology._ ” Emil points out with a jovial laugh. “ _They’ll set up shop up on the rooftop before you arrive there but you may want to get there soon because they’re already close to Brooklyn._ ”

“Right,” Chris says with a nod and clicks off the call, turning off his phone and shoving it in the pocket of his coat. Retrieving a pair of leather gloves, he slips them on gives the room a once over. The bug’s transceiver has been static and broken sentences for a while, given a large amount of distance between the target and Chris but he will soon rectify that with Emil’s help just a short command away.

 

\--

 

There were two people already at the rooftop vantage point by the time Chris had arrived some forty minutes later. One of them was sitting cross-legged on the floor, Emil’s bulky laptop on his lap with a bunch of wires coiling about around him that Chris didn’t know the purpose of. The other was setting up a small satellite dish, for which to capture better audio feed from the bug on Yuuri’s coat, leaving Chris to settle at the edge of the building’s low ledge and produce his binoculars to search for a familiar silver fox his raven-haired companion.

There was a third to this party, apparently; a junior field agent who was on the grounds and following the targets closely, under the guise of another run-of-the-mill amusement park attendee. Chris is handed the earpiece from one of Emil’s colleagues and hears the Czech man speak on the other line.

“ _Charlie Golf, Can you hear me? Over._ ”

“Eagle November, loud and clear. Over.”

Emil hums in approval. “ _Great. Yankee Papa, can you hear me? Over._ ”

Chris furrows his brows, wondering who was on the other line until he hears: “ _What the fuck is that kind of code name?_ ” A disgruntled, Russian-accented voice spoke from another frequency.

The Swiss man immediately sighed. He recognized that voice and it didn’t bode well. He wasn't aware that his supposedly solo stakeout mission was already interrupted by management. No wonder they were particular about it being a junior field agent—the agent on the grounds at the moment was only eighteen and just finished his training.

“ _Yuri Plisetsky, right?_ ” Chris says, not bothering to mask his own disgruntlement. There was a huff of annoyance that sounded like a rush of static on one ear.

“ _Focus on your mission, Yuri._ ” To his surprise, Chris can hear Yakov speaking on another radio frequency. Just how many others are listening in on them?

“ _I don’t see why I have to tail the old man while he’s on a date with this pig._ ” Yuri scoffs derisively.

“ _Yuri._ ” Yakov’s tone was laced with a warning and the brat decided it was more convenient to cooperate. Chris goes over to look at the video feed and spots Viktor and Yuuri on their way to one of the stalls that housed a shooting game wherein the objective was to hit the moving bulls-eye targets three consecutive times to win a prize.

Chris is handed a pair of headphones and listens in on the conversation they were having. As what the video feed shows, Yuuri was looking at something displayed at this particular games stall and Chris hears Viktor comment on it.

“ _S-Sorry._ ” Yuuri apologizes, the tips of his ears going slightly pink as he averts his gaze from whatever toy he was ogling at to glance back at Viktor. “ _It just reminded me of my childhood._ ”

“ _Which one?_ ” Viktor looks up to scan the assortment of toys. “ _The rice ball plush?_ ”

Yuuri nods hesitantly. Viktor gives him a curious look and Yuuri caves in without much verbal prompting wherein he explains that back when he competed for ice skating, the tokens of appreciation he’d usually get from the audience were plush toys, specifically food-based ones but he usually kept the rice ball ones while he gives the rest away to kids at his town’s primary school.

He said it was dumb—to which Plisetsky certainly agrees to before he’s shushed again by Yakov—until they all stopped talking when Viktor spoke up.

“ _Want to have a go, then? Test your luck?_ ”

Yuuri perks up slightly. “ _C-Can we?_ ”

“ _Sure! C’mon!_ ” They move towards the stall and the owner enthusiastically greets them. Viktor pays for one round first and Chris sees, to his amusement, in which Viktor was purposefully missing one or two shots, despite the fact that he has the best and most accurate aim than anyone else within the organization, with only a small, small percentage of failure to miss a particular target he had in mind.

“ _Can I try?_ ” Yuuri asks when he’s finished giggling at Viktor’s attempts. Viktor offers the plastic rifle to Yuuri, who takes a few step forwards and brings the rifle up, lining it so that his eye level with the toy’s iron sights. His grip around the trigger was particularly careful. Unlike most people who usually put their finger on the trigger as if they were already ready to shoot, his fingers were coiled around the trigger guard. It wasn’t anything special but did make Chris curious.

Maybe he knew proper gun safety, Chris muses but then remembered that Japan had strict anti-gun laws that could only be rivaled by England’s own anti-gun legislation. After lining up the toy rifle carefully, he fired his first shot and hit the very centre of the moving target.

He fires another shot and repeats the same results and then another, another and another. Even when he’s already won the prize of his choice, he empties the magazine, hitting another target until he misses at the very last one.

Viktor claps, looking nothing short of slightly bewildered but also amazed. Yuuri flushes under his gaze and exclaims something about beginner’s luck and just wanted to see how far his luck will go but Viktor was having none of it, saying that if they go in another shooting booth, they’d win more prizes for sure.

When they claim the ridiculously huge rice ball plush, Viktor fishes out his phone to take a picture (or two or maybe ten; possibly more) of Yuuri while he admires and clutches at his plush toy, looking all the more like a young, innocent boy but looked all the more adorable for it. He kisses Viktor on the cheek, bashfully muttering out a thank you.

“ _God, is all this really necessary? He’s just out on a fucking date. There’s nothing sinister about this._ ” Plisetsky spat under his breath, still audible in their earpieces. Yakov growls out another warning which Plisetsky returns with a derisive scoff and nothing else.

“This is more so behavioural study,” Chris mutters. “Just follow them around, Yankee. Eagle, have you been recording these footages?”

“ _You don’t even need to ask._ ” Emil laughs. “ _I’ll send them over to you if you ever need to review the footage._ ”

They go to more stalls though Yuuri’s luck has ran out when he tried other shooting ranges. Yuuri won another prize at a different stall where he presented Viktor a tissue box that had an uncanny resemblance to Makkachin, to which Viktor accepted gratefully. They had someone take a picture of both of them with their prizes clutched in their arms before they headed off to another attraction. Eventually, they finished their Coney Island date with one last ride on the Ferris wheel, as Yuuri did not want to go into the Coney Cyclone, lest Viktor wants to deal with Yuuri suffering from motion sickness.

They took a few more pictures until Viktor escorts Yuuri out and into the back of a taxi cab where they apparently intended to go back to Chelsea but not go immediately to Viktor’s building, as they apparently had plans to have pizza at a nearby pizza place instead.

“ _Christophe,_ ” Yakov spoke through his ear piece. “ _The assignment is over. You can now go back._ ”

With a bit of hesitation, he asked, “Are you sure, sir?”

After a pause, Yakov replies, “ _Yes. I’ve seen enough._ ”

Chris feels something foreboding in the pit of his stomach from those words alone but he kept his mouth shut and affirmed that he was moving out. Once the rooftop was clear of any evidence of their occupation, they retreated back to the ground floor and went their separate ways.

 

\--

 

Chris arrives back at his suite at around eight in the evening. He rings up room service, ordering a full course meal with desserts and a whole bottle of wine. He chose Endive salad with beets and walnut Port vinaigrette for his appetizers and for his entrée, he settles for grilled filet mignon. As a bit of indulgence, he opts for chocolate mousse and Opera cake (with the full knowledge that he’ll need to make up for it with some intense, high-calorie burning workout by tomorrow morning) and settles for a bottle of Schrader Old Sparky Cabernet Sauvignon to pair with his dinner.

While waiting for his food, Chris goes to his bedroom and heads for the bathroom to strip off his clothes, wash off his makeup and prepare the tub for a long, relaxing soak in it. When the tub is full, he drops the bath bomb and smells Roses, Jasmines and a hint of lemon in the water. Chris would have soaked for much longer in the bath, had it not been for the sound of a hand rapping on the door, signalling the arrival of room service and his hands getting all prune-like from soaking for too long. He wraps himself in one of the cashmere bathrobes, but only barely so as most of his chest was left uncovered but at the very least, the important bits were covered up so as to not get called out for indecency with the staff.

The young woman dressed in the hotel’s staff uniform squeaks at the sight of him, her cheeks colouring bright pink and her words tumbling one after the other. Chris smiles his lady-killer smile and hands her a tip before shooing gently her out of the room.

The food was already laid out on the coffee table so Chris settles on the nearest settees and picks at his appetizer first. He doesn’t like the ever growing silence, save for the noise of his cutlery hitting the ceramic plates, and picks up the TV remote and tunes in at a random channel, settling for some network that was showing some incredibly cheesy romantic comedy that starred Gerard Butler and Catherine Heigl that he woefully refuses to acknowledge is actually pretty funny because, well, it’s Catherine Heigl.

When Chris finally finishes his entrée, he reaches for his bowl of chocolate mousse. Just as he was contemplating on ordering dessert wine to pair with his bitter Opera cake for later, he hears the crackle of static coming from the bedroom, followed immediately by the now-familiar sound of Yuuri’s voice.

Chris almost forgot the fact that he had Yuuri bugged. He wonders briefly if Yuuri caught sight of it somehow, given how Chris planted it on the underside of the lapel of his coat. Judging from the fact that he wasn’t screaming in panic, confused or even sounding angry, Chris assumes that he didn’t.

He sets down his dessert and makes purposeful strides across the drawing room and to the bedroom, finding the equipment casually played across the bed. Taking out his earphones, Chris plugs it in and listens to their conversation.

“ _Did you have fun today?_ ” Viktor asks, his voice distant but still loud enough for the bug to pick up.

“ _I did. Thank you for today._ ” Yuuri replied, his voice much louder than Viktor’s.

“ _You’re very much welcome._ ” Viktor replies, voice getting louder as if he was growing ever closer. “ _Can’t say I’ve ever done that before so it was a nice experience for me too._ ”

“ _What do you mean?_ ” There was clear scepticism marring Yuuri’s tone. “ _You’ve never gone to Coney Island before?_ ”

“ _I have but not for rides and game stalls, no,_ ” Viktor says blithely. “ _But it was fun. I don’t even know why I’ve never done those before._ ”

There was a pause and then Yuuri says, “ _I’m glad to know that, then._ ”

Chris was growing ever frustrated with the lack of visuals accompanying their voices until he realizes that Emil might not have cut him off from his connection to Viktor’s security systems just yet.

Hurriedly, Chris grabs his laptop and turns it on, suddenly finding Jesus a hell of a lot more believable as he prays that Emil has overlooked this certain detail. God smiles down upon him, apparently, as the first thing he sees once he was logged in was the footage from the living room area of the penthouse. Quickly, he switches over to the view of the master bedroom, where Yuuri has draped his new coat on a nearby armchair before moving to the bed to grab his rice-ball plush and clutch it close.

He was now dressed in last night’s sweatpants but sported a different shirt. He turns and sits on the edge of the bed. Makkachin pads towards him and with a chuckle, he sets down his plush toy and opens his arms to invite Makkachin into them. The poodle happily tackles him, forcing Yuuri on his back while the poodle licks and paws at his chest excitedly. Yuuri laughs and only half-heartedly scolds the poodle for his actions.

“ _Makkachin has sure taken a liking to you,_ ” Viktor notes. His form appears from the walk-in closet as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at the two figures on the bed. He was wearing a white cashmere bathrobe and had a towel draped over his shoulders, catching at his damp hair.

“ _You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t blow dry your hair._ ” Yuuri points out as soon as he straightens up, Makkachin hopping off his chest to rest on the foot of the bed instead.

“ _I was hoping I could ask you to do it for me,_ ” Viktor says rather cheekily, beaming at Yuuri with the air of someone who usually got his way. Yuuri stared at him blankly for a moment before he shrugs his shoulders and gets to his feet, following him to the walk-in closet.

Chris searches through all video feeds but finds no cameras within the bathroom. Grumbling like a child who was denied of a new toy, Chris gets to his feet and shuffles off back to the drawing room to finish his food and about half the contents of his wine bottle.  When the service crew came to fetch his stuff Chris tips them generously and returns to his bedroom after the main door has been shut and locked and finds that the two have returned to the bed and into the familiar position they found themselves in yesterday though, this time, Yuuri was the one leaning against the headboard while Viktor was resting against his chest sitting in between Yuuri’s legs.

“ _Why did you suddenly ask me to blow dry your hair for you?_ ” Yuuri asks, one of his elbows resting on Viktor’s shoulder while his fingers card through his hair. Chris has to blink rapidly, thinking that his eyes must be deceiving him.

Viktor was particularly vain when it comes to his hair. No matter how much Chris assures him that his hair line isn’t receding at all and that he just has a rather large forehead, Viktor is adamant at the fact that his hair is thinning and doesn’t let anyone else touch it but himself and his hair stylist.

But here was Yuuri, carding through Viktor’s silvery blonde hair almost absentmindedly as if he didn’t even notice it and Viktor wasn’t pouting up a storm or looking affronted at all.

“ _I just felt like it,_ ” Viktor replies casually. “ _I don’t know when we can do this again so I might as well do things with you while you’re still here._ ”

Yuuri chuckles. “ _You sound like I’m not coming back for another few years. I can come by next weekend if you—_ “ He pauses abruptly as if he just realizes something and can’t bring himself to finish his sentence.

“ _What is it? Are you going to be busy next weekend?_ ”

There was a pause before Yuuri settles on saying, “ _I’m not exactly sure. I’m set to graduate this May so I might have to work on the requirements for graduation like studying for finals and submitting final requirements._ ”

“ _You can work on them here._ ” Viktor blurts out suddenly, sounding slightly desperate given the hastiness of his response. At Yuuri’s silence, Viktor straightens up, turning his body slightly so that he could look at Yuuri’s expression.

Yuuri’s blank look suggested that he was processing the option that Viktor had just presented him. Viktor took Yuuri’s increasingly long silence as a sign of an incoming rejection or something as he suddenly brought forth some justification and some benefits to studying here.

“ _I can help you with anything you need and I promise you won’t be distracted by anything and I have a lot of empty rooms you can use to sleep at if you find it too distracting to sleep with me here and—_ “

Viktor was cut off from his rambling by Yuuri’s face breaking into a wide grin and the sounds of him chuckling. “ _Viktor, calm down. I wasn’t going to say no but that doesn’t mean I can readily say yes either._ ”

“ _Why not?_ ”

Yuuri shrugs his shoulders. “ _Well, you’ll never know what will happen during the weekdays so I can’t exactly say that I will always be available on the weekends._ ” His reasoning was clear and understandable enough but it didn’t stop Viktor from pouting like the petulant man-child that he truly, truly was.

But Yuuri’s gaze and soft smile was fond and he brings one of his hands up to reach for Viktor’s face, cupping his cheek ever so gently and Viktor leans against the touch with a soft sigh. Yuuri uses this hold to bring Viktor towards him so he can press a kiss against Viktor’s other cheek.

“ _How about this, if I know I’m available for the weekend, I’ll call you on Wednesdays. How does that sound?_ ”

It placates Viktor in an instant and the Russian man cheers excitedly. The poodle that was resting on the foot of their bed wags its tail excitedly, noticing the sudden change in its master’s demeanour and crosses the bed to join him in between Yuuri’s legs. The Japanese man flushes slightly and pulls his hand away from Viktor’s cheek to press both palms on the surface of the mattress, seemingly to balance himself as he shifts his weight to get more comfortable.

“ _What do you want to do tonight?_ ” Yuuri asks.

Viktor looks at him for a moment before brings one of his hands upwards and tap his index finger against his chin as he contemplates on an answer.

“ _What time do you have to be back tomorrow?_ ”

It was Yuuri’s time to pause but he answers straightforwardly as he replied, “I need to be back before nine since I have a major subject lecture at nine thirty.”

Viktor nods at this and then goes silent to contemplate again. Makkachin brings his attention from Viktor to Yuuri, who scratches the back of his ear with one hand while the other rests on the mattress.

“ _Let’s just go to sleep then._ ”

“ _That took a while._ ” Yuuri muses. “ _What were you thinking we should do?_ ”

“ _Each other, duh._ ” Viktor replies with sly grin. Yuuri goes red in embarrassment and turns his gaze away from Viktor, muttering something that the bug could unfortunately not detect. Viktor does, though, and he puts on a more serious look and adapts a less cheery tone as he replies with,

“ _I’ll hold back if you want me to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable._ ”

“ _N-No!_ ” He looked slightly aghast at the notion and quickly turn his head back to look at Viktor with a piercing look. “ _Just be you. I don’t want you to tailor yourself to me to fit my needs. Just be yourself, okay? Don’t worry about me. I’m just not used to it yet._ ”

Viktor goes silent yet again and Yuuri’s brows furrow but then Viktor puts on a warm smile and brings his hand to cup the younger man’s cheek.

“ _Okay. I won’t hold back then._ ” He says in a gentler tone. Yuuri smiles back at him and leans against the touch. “ _I won’t go easy on you either. That’s how I show my love._ ”

Yuuri chuckles at that. “ _Good. I don’t want you to suddenly go soft on me._ ”

They eventually decided to slip under the covers and tuck themselves into bed. Viktor opens his arms in a gesture to invite Yuuri to his embrace. After just a moment’s hesitation, Yuuri scooted closer to tuck his head underneath Viktor’s chin and sink into his embrace.

“Oh, that’s just cute.” Chris finds himself muttering under his breath, his lips curling upwards in  a smile but it was short lived. He suddenly missed his husband so badly and gazes at the empty space next to him and wishes that his husband was right there so he can cuddle with him too.

Damn Viktor and his stupid pretty boyfriend being all lovey-dovey, Chris internally grumbles. “Go argue about something petty!” He whines.

But no, those two are the poster children for the honeymoon stage of relationships. Viktor apparently moved his hand the wrong way and made Yuuri burst in to giggles and exclaims something about being sensitive at the nape of the neck.

“ _Oh, I’m well aware of that._ ” Viktor remarks. “ _I think I marked you a lot our first night._ ”

“ _And it took a lot of concealer to hide._ ” Yuuri petulantly mumbles. “ _When I returned to my hotel room, Phichit was practically on his knees, begging for answers. He might have thought that I got assaulted, seeing as how I did go to a bar and… well, you know what that bar creep must have been thinking about putting in my drink._ ”

Viktor’s tone was clipped when he replied, “ _Good thing that never happened then._ ”

“ _Yeah,_ ” Yuuri replies. “ _Instead, I had a very fun night with a handsome foreigner._ ”

“ _Oh, who is this handsome foreigner?_ ”

“ _Oh, you probably can spot him anywhere if you just know what to look for._ ” Yuuri’s teasing tone was back in full force. “ _Just look for a head of shiny grey hair on a surprisingly limber and unwrinkled man._ ”

Viktor gasped and then exclaimed defensively, “It’s _platinum!_ ” He says with clear emphasis on the tone but it apparently fell on deaf ears as he kept on teasing Viktor about his apparent grey hair but he crosses the line when he jokes that it was thinning.

Viktor looked so distraught that he actually turned away from Yuuri to face the other way, his back turned from his boyfriend who still hasn’t caught on.

“ _Aw, I was only kidding, Viktor. I’m sorry._ ” He says as he pries his eyeglasses from his face and wipes a stray tear from the corner of his eye with the back of his hand. When Viktor didn’t turn around, Yuuri goes quiet and more carefully, he repeats his apology.

Viktor was trying very hard not to burst out laughing. He bit his bottom lip, trying very hard not to open his mouth in fear of losing whatever this game is supposed to be. Chris is the one who sees it first (of course since he was practically facing the direction where the camera was situated at) but Yuuri couldn’t see it and he suddenly went quiet and almost scarily still.

Chris blinks before he scrutinizes the expression Yuuri’s face. He can clearly see the panic in those wide brown eyes of his. Surely he must have caught on; that Viktor wasn’t entirely serious (he still was rather sensitive when it comes to his hair) but he shouldn’t look so horrified as he does now—

Viktor seems to have noticed Yuuri going quiet that he glances over his shoulder with a grin on his face but it must have fallen, judging from the movement of his cheeks and jawline, when he saw Yuuri’s panicked look.

Chris takes a swig of his wine and takes his plate of Opera cake and practically starts shovelling it while he enjoys this show.

“ _Yuuri? No, no. It was a joke. I wasn’t angry!_ ” It was Viktor’s turn to apologize and Yuuri almost looked relieved.

“ _…Sorry._ ” Yuuri apologized again, sounding very much like a small child. He hung his head low and brought his hands together to wring them slightly. “ _I thought you took me seriously. I panicked. I don’t think your hair is thinning, okay? I touched it myself just a while ago and it’s very soft and—_ “

“ _Yuuri, it’s okay. It’s okay._ ” Viktor says reassuringly, taking Yuuri’s hands and gently pulled them apart so he can kiss each of his knuckles. “ _My hair… is just a bit of a sore spot, okay?_ ”

Yuuri nodded earnestly. “ _I won’t make fun of it anymore._ ” But then he backtracks and says tentatively, “ _Or maybe I will but don’t ever take it seriously, okay?_ ”

Viktor laughs and sets Yuuri’s hands down slightly to say, “ _Okay, darling._ ” In the gentlest, warmest voice that makes Yuuri blush underneath his gaze but doesn’t turn his head away.

Chris shoves the last slice of Opera cake into his mouth, chews before downing it with the red wine. He shudders slightly at the weird combination of flavours that assaulted his mouth but can’t exactly blame anyone but himself as he was the one who didn’t order dessert wine to pair with his sweets.

Chris wholly expected that to go another way around, even though it was quite a petty argument over Viktor’s hair and Yuuri’s ignorance on Viktor’s oversensitivity towards anything to do with it but of course, he was also glad that it didn’t because petty arguments can still snowball into something much more bitter and it was far too early for them to experience that kind of hardship.

“ _Let’s go to sleep, yes?_ ” Viktor offers, slowly sinking back down and pulling Yuuri along with him. Yuuri curls up in Viktor’s hold again, one arm tucked underneath Viktor’s so he could grip at the back of Viktor’s shirt.

“ _Good night, Yuuri._ ”

“ _…Good night, Viktor._ ” He mutters before closing his eyes. With Viktor’s back turned from the camera, Chris couldn’t get a clear view Viktor’s face. Yuuri has his eyes closed and seems to have an easier time drifting to sleep while Viktor remained somewhat motionless, save for his breathing.

Then, Viktor brings his free arm towards Yuuri’s face, seemingly to brush a stray lock of hair from giving him a full view of Yuuri’s peaceful state. From his face, Viktor moves his hands to have his fingers sift through Yuuri’s hair in a combing motion, his movements slow and seemingly gentle, probably so as to not wake the other person up.

It was then that Chris has decided he’s seen enough and he knows enough things that should be known as an outside party into this relationship. Right now, right at that moment, Chris realizes that for his best friend, this was Viktor’s private moment and Chris didn’t have the heart to intrude upon it anymore.

He turns off the laptop and texts Emil through his burner phone to cut off his connection to Viktor’s security systems, lest he wants Viktor to find out tomorrow morning. He receives a reply about ten seconds later to be thanked for the reminder.

Chris finishes the rest of his bottle and lets out a yawn. Checking the time, he knew it was time to hit the hay.

When he’ll meet Viktor tomorrow, he’ll ask him about his weekend and even if he’s going to get extremely sappy and incredibly cheesy, Chris has since come to learn to live with it. He probably has become desensitized from it judging from how exposed to it he was over the course of two days.

There’s still the threat of danger and Viktor’s sudden openness leading to his vulnerability but Chris has put things into perspective (and hopes that Yakov and the rest of management will come to do the same too).

Viktor can still change his ways and can rectify his actions. He’s _Viktor Fucking Nikiforov_ , after all. He can reign in on his emotions and learn to hold back and he doesn’t have to give up on his feelings for Yuuri to ever do it and Chris, the ever reliable best friend, will help him along the way.

Glancing at his wine bottle and finding just enough to fill up another glass, Chris decided that he’s had enough of the alcohol.

It was just enough for tonight.

* * *

**MEIXIU**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***AGGRESSIVE KOWTOWING CONTINUES***
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> \--
> 
> The Italian conversation translates as:  
> CG: “Mi dispiace, mi dispiace! Stai bene?” (I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Are you alright?)  
> VN: "Tutto bene, signore?" (Are you okay, sir?)  
> CG: "Ah, sì, sto bene. Scusa per il disturbo. Non stavo guardando dove stavo andando." (Ah, yes, I'm fine. Sorry for the trouble. I was not looking where I was going.)  
> VN: “Non è un problema, signore. Hai bisogno di aiuto? (It's no problem, sir. Do you need help?)  
> CG: “Ah, sì, grazie!” (Ah, yes, thank you!)
> 
> Please note that I'm, by no means, fluent in the language. I definitely used online translators for it so, I'm sorry. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Edit: How many kudos does this story have? Over 200? ... ***hyperventilates***
> 
> \--
> 
> For updates, comments and suggestions, feel free to check my [Tumblr.](https://meixiu-writes.tumblr.com/)


	5. Ice King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor, to say the least, is displeased when he finds out about the surveillance on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think I can kowtow my way out of another excuse but I will still give you one. I sort of lost my drive for this around a few months ago though not because I wasn’t interested in finishing it. I finished my contract-based job at on the last day of May and have subsequently become jobless since then. 
> 
> It’s not necessarily a bad thing, as I live with my mother so I’m not homeless but I’ve been pouring my attention to looking for a job, online or otherwise, because I don’t want to be a useless freeloader in my house. 
> 
> But, I didn't want to give up on the story, especially when I did want to continue writing so I continued to write Assassin’s Tango and mapped out the events of Happy Hour for a more cohesive story, but only in little bits as I mentioned, I am focused on looking for a job more than this hobby. It’s a fun hobby but it does eat away at your time and makes me feel like I’m not contributing anything to this household. 
> 
> I do apologize for making people wait, and I'm sure that people's interests on this has waned but I made a promise to myself and my audience that I will not repeat the same mistakes as I did with Happy Hour, where I deleted it simply because I wasn't happy with it, while ignoring the feelings of the readers themselves. Truly, if you are still anticipating thing, thank you. 
> 
> But, now, I’m back. I’m still jobless (a fact I can't rectify easily because of the job market and what not) but I tried not to take it to heart that much since my mother assures me that finding a job isn’t easy so she doesn’t fault me for not having one until today. Thank you for understanding and I hope you enjoy this mediocre chapter. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Warnings: Mediocre morning sex (non-penetrative) 
> 
> \--

Viktor could get used to waking up to someone next to him, provided that the specific person he had in mind was the one he was waking up to.

Viktor never literally slept with anyone beside him before—for safety reasons amongst many others—but Yuuri Katsuki has become an exception to many things concerning Viktor and somehow, he can’t bring himself to mind it.

The rational part of Viktor begs the question as to why that was the case but Viktor pushes those thoughts aside as he concentrates on the now.

He knows that he shouldn’t be thinking that when Yuuri is one accidental brush on a wood panel away from seeing Viktor’s armoury but even that thought is pushed back into the farthest depths of his brain once he takes in the idea of Yuuri being in his bed, sleeping so peacefully and at ease with the world.

Viktor shifts his weight slightly and peers at the sleeping face of his lover, admiring the way the weak morning sun bathes him in pale golden lights and illuminates the skin it touches. With the gentlest touch, Viktor brings his hand towards his face, brushing off a lock of hair and accidentally brushes his fingers against Yuuri’s soft, thick lashes, which in the pale light, looked like stardust glittered at the thin hairs.

With the back of his fingers, Viktor brushes against Yuuri’s cheek, marvelling at the softness of it and the smoothness of his skin that seemed to glow under the weak light that was peeking through the gaps of the Venetian blinds. Viktor found himself intently looking at Yuuri’s lips were slightly parted and his lips were plump and shiny.

He was so, _so_ beautiful, he thinks with a fond sigh, the corner of his lips curving upwards in a lopsided smile. It was the first thing he noticed about him and Viktor can’t even find it within himself to get tired of ever mentioning it. To think that this sleeping beauty was _his_ to hold and this man has never been held before—Viktor can’t help but feel excitement coursing through his veins, eliciting an aborted squeal and the intense urge to encircle Yuuri in a tight embrace.

Viktor was an impulsive man and he let his urges take over. Yuuri gasps when he’s startled awake by Viktor’s hug, crushing the man against his chest and gushing continuously until Yuuri taps his arm incessantly as a show of defeat, his breathing laboured and accompanied by him expressing his annoyance.  

“Sorry, Лапушка.” Viktor coos, pressing his lips against Yuuri’s temple and burying his nose in his silky black hair that smells of Viktor’s macadamia nut shampoo. “You were just too cute, I couldn’t help it.” He says giddily.

Viktor hears Yuuri huff but gives Viktor a bemused smile, nevertheless. “I guess that’s also _one_ way to wake up.” He muses after a beat.

He cranes his neck slightly to look at Viktor, allowing the Russian man to get a good look at his cinnamon brown eyes.

The more time he spends with this man, the cornier he gets, Viktor thinks idly, but from Yuuri’s responses, his lover doesn’t seem inclined to mind and Viktor, in turn, will do the same.

“Good morning, Viktor.” He says with a kiss on the cheek. Viktor responds by hugging him tighter and greeting him good morning in all the languages that he knew—which was a lot—punctuating each greeting with a kiss on whatever skin that was closest until Yuuri tells him he got it in between his giggles.

“What time is it?” Yuuri asks, turning his head to look at the windows. “It seems oddly bright out. I hope we didn’t sleep in…”

Viktor shifts around slightly and glances towards the nightstand beside his bed and finds his iPhone there. He picks it up and checks the time, informing Yuuri that it was five-forty in the morning. It was an ungodly hour for Viktor to wake up in. He normally woke at around seven at least and, given the guise of their building, he isn’t expected to show up to work until ten when it was business hours.

Yuuri sighs in relief and nods before he pecks Viktor on the cheek once more before making a move to sit up but Viktor’s hold around him was preventing him from doing so.

“Viktor, I need to get ready…” Yuuri’s tone wasn’t a warning. If it were, there should be a hint of steel and reluctance in the inflection of his tone. It was more so informative, really, as if Viktor was being reminded of the fact that Yuuri needed to leave; the thought of which sours Viktor’s mood but he tries his best not to show it too overtly.

Viktor pulled him tighter, his mouth forming a tight line which he can’t school quickly enough to become a presentable smile. “What time is your class again?” He buries his face in Yuuri’s hair, even though Yuuri probably wouldn’t be able to see his face anyways, given how much of a strain it would be on his neck to crane it upwards.

“9:30.” Yuuri informs him, tipping his head to the side to give Viktor better access to the side of his neck. “And it’s approximately a two hour drive from here to Stamford and we haven’t prepared breakfast yet.” He dutifully points out.

“Hm… We can just get something on the go…” Viktor murmurs, tilting his head slightly and brushes his lips against the side of Yuuri’s neck and still refusing to let go of him. Instead, he drapes his leg over Yuuri’s own and pulls him a lot tighter and closer to him.

He presses his groin flush against Yuuri’s side though Yuuri doesn’t protest, or at least Viktor doesn’t think he is. In fact, he lets out a soft laugh and comments something about Viktor’s apparent relations to cephalopods due to the way he was clinging to Yuuri with the use of all of his limbs.

“But I thought I was cheese.” Viktor points out.

“You’re both the literal embodiment of cheese and related to cephalopods.” Yuuri informs him gently, then he lets out a snort and asks, “What kind of freak am I dating?” He says sarcastically.

“The best kind of freak.” Viktor reminds him, grinning against his skin and nipping at a bit of the flesh, earning a surprised yelp from Yuuri before licking the fresh mark he just made. Viktor grinds his morning wood against Yuuri’s hip and this time, the man finally reacts, his cheeks and the tips of his ears flushing red.

“The one who can drive you _wild_.” Viktor adds in a purr.

“God, Viktor, what got you like this?” Yuuri asks, sounding slightly breathless.

Viktor runs his lips up the line of Yuuri’s neck, pressing a kiss against his jaw before he moves to press his lips against his ear and whispers, “You, Лапушка.”

He hears Yuuri’s breath hitch and his body stilling within his hold, like the words threw him off or something within the same lines of that sentiment.

Viktor continued on regardless. “I can’t believe I have the privilege of waking up to you.” Viktor answers honestly and he can feel Yuuri reach, shivering in his hold and letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“V-Viktor… I—“ Yuuri’s response seemed more like a petulant whine, which didn’t deter Viktor from thinking that Yuuri’s voice was soft, angelic and he could listen to him every day—

“Yes?” Viktor draws out. He pulls his head back slightly, giving Yuuri room to turn his head and their gaze meet each other. Yuuri’s eyes were narrowed, his cheeks were slightly flushed and his immaculate brows were furrowed at the middle. He was frowning slightly at Viktor but the man simply fluttered his eyes innocently.

“… I want to be back at Connecticut by nine thirty.” He says to Viktor, sounding as if this was supposed to be a reminder. “Can your Audi handle it?”

Viktor lets out a chuckle. Of course his Audi can handle it but why waste the chance of his Yuuri arriving in style to campus by using his Bentley Continental instead?

“Of course it can.” He answers, simply.

“Good.” Yuuri says and Viktor can almost sense the smile on his face. Yuuri sat up abruptly, taking advantage of Viktor’s loose arms and then hikes his leg over to the other side of the bed. Viktor realizes what his intentions were immediately and lies flat on his back to let Yuuri rest on top of him.

He had expected Yuuri to stay over his pelvis but he opted to straddle his legs instead. The sun outside was shining brighter now and Yuuri looked ethereal underneath its rays as he towered over him. Viktor bites the inside of his lower lip, fighting a grin as he watches Yuuri toy with the hemline of his shirt before pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor. Yuuri was lean and soft all at once.

Viktor blinks rapidly as if he was trying to adjust his eyes to the sight in front of him and doing so made him realize just how little he looked at Yuuri’s body thoroughly—a fact which he will rectify on a later date.

Viktor knows scar marks when he sees them and he definitely sees them now under this different lighting. They were feint but under his trained eyes, he takes in every single scar; some large fading gashes and others small and finds them to be a lot more than any normal person would have.

As if realizing that he’s gone quiet, Viktor licks his lower lip and eyes Yuuri with a heated gaze. “Someone’s eager.” Viktor says teasingly but Yuuri smirks back at him, bring the palm of his hand to Viktor’s hardening length that was tenting underneath his pyjama bottoms. Viktor lets out a hiss that he couldn’t muffle in time when Yuuri squeezes his length through the fabric.

“Really? I get the feeling I’m not the only one in the room who is.” He drawls lowly, his lips curving upwards in a seductive smile and his eyes half-lidded and fluttering coyly down at him. Viktor could feel his dick twitch when Yuuri started moving his hands, his fingers reaching up to take hold of the waistband of his drawstring sweatpants and pull it down to reveal his erection at half-mast.

Yuuri’s smouldering gaze was nothing short of lascivious, and he licks his lips slowly to add to the effect. He takes hold of Viktor’s length and started pumping it nice and slow. Viktor shudders and lets out a pleased sigh. He feels Yuuri’s free hand pressing against his chest and sees his lover moving forwards just to purr right up against his ear, “Don’t worry, 亲爱的, I’ll take care of you.”

Viktor, in his lust-hazed mind, barely registers Yuuri’s moniker, or the fact that it was even in a foreign tongue and the matter of his healed scars was pushed into the back of his mind and God knows how long till it’ll resurface.

Instead, his mind was recording the image of Yuuri, moving back down to level with his cock and proceeded to lick it with the flat of his tongue from the base up to the tip while maintaining eye contact with Viktor. He licks the tip of his cock with his lip and the moan that comes from Yuuri’s throat goes straight to Viktor’s already hardening length.

“Yuuri—“

“Shh…” Yuuri says as he dips his head lower to the base of his cock. “If you speak, you’re finishing this on your own.” Viktor can feel the smile on Yuuri’s face as he presses his lips against the skin of his shaft once again.

“…Yo-You wouldn’t do that to me, right?”

He hears Yuuri chuckle but he doesn’t offer Viktor a coherent answer as he was busy laving at his cock. When he reaches the tip again, he licks the pre-cum off it before bringing his hand to hold the base of his cock and started stroking it again.

Viktor bites  the inside of his lower lip, trying very hard not to say anything but little moans and whimpers do escape his lips and he had to bring his hand up to his mouth to cover his noise. He hears the rumbling sound of Yuuri’s chuckling and looks up to find him smirking.

“I’ll let you answer me this, 亲爱的, do you to use my mouth or will you be satisfied with just my hand?” His smirk says that he already knows the answer to that.

Again with that word, thought Viktor. If it was possible to have a language kink, then he’s starting to develop one. “...Your mouth…” Viktor manages to breathe out. Yuuri seemed satisfied with his answer. Still holding the base of his cock, he takes a few inches of Viktor’s shaft into his mouth and hollowed out his cheeks as he sucks on it.

He eases himself this time, being careful about just how far he could take Viktor’s length into his mouth to avoid gagging. Viktor aches to thrust upwards but one of Yuuri’s hands was holding his hip as a sign to keep him steady. His hands grip the sheets like how he would hold Yuuri’s hair and he longs to tug at his luxuriously soft hair rather than the Egyptian cotton bedsheets.

After one particularly good suck, Viktor lets out a groan that is responded with an equally lascivious moan while Viktor’s shaft was still in his mouth, the vibrations sending sparks of sensation throughout Viktor’s body that he lifted one of his hands to grip at Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri pulls his head back and sucks on the cock head, slightly out of breath with his jaw hanging open, a mix of pre-cum and saliva trickling down the corner of his mouth. His eyes were glazed over, with his pupils dilated and were locked into Viktor’s equally heated gaze once again.

He dives back down, taking more of Viktor’s length until his cockhead hits the back of Yuuri’s throat, eliciting a choking sound from Yuuri which prompts Viktor to tug at his hair in warning. Yuuri grips harder at Viktor’s thigh and proceeds to repeat it.

“You’re doing so well, Yuuri…” Viktor coos out in a breathy voice and Yuuri makes a noise at the back of his throat that indicated that he was either pleased or embarrassed but somehow, Viktor wouldn’t find it out of place if he was feeling both.

Viktor adjusts himself so that he was sitting up, his free hand holding him upright while his other hand eased off his grip on Yuuri’s hair and moved on to trailing his touch to trace Yuuri’s jawline, rubbing at it softly.

“That’s it, Лапушка… Take it easy.” He breathes out, still holding his smile.

Viktor feels heat coiling in his stomach. He’s getting close. He warns Yuuri just as much. Yuuri pulls away from his shaft, the hand he was using to hold him by the base started pumping at him fast, the pre-cum spilling from the head easily letting Yuuri’s hand slide easily across the hardened organ.

“V-Viktor…” Yuuri manages to say in between his laboured breathing. His gaze was evidently glazed over and he seemed to have trouble with keeping the position he’s been holding.

Viktor leans forward and cups the sides of Yuuri’s face with each hand, his thumb stroking the soft, warm skin of his cheeks and locking his gaze with Yuuri’s own. “Do you want to take this elsewhere, darling?” Viktor asks him gently.

Yuuri hesitated for a brief moment but agreed, allowing Viktor to lead him to the bathroom. Viktor eases Yuuri out of his pyjama bottoms, allowing him a good look of Yuuri’s leaking bulge that was straining the fabric of his boxer briefs.

Yuuri notices his gaze and squirms slightly underneath Viktor’s observant gaze. Viktor brings his hand up to Yuuri’s chin and lifts it up so that they could make eye contact. Viktor steps a bit closer so that his free hand could reach around Yuuri’s back, pulling him towards Viktor so that Yuuri’s hands had to brace himself against Viktor’s chest to avoid falling forwards. 

The hand that Viktor had against the small of Yuuri’s back moved down slowly, tracing the curve of Yuuri’s round, plump ass; the sensations of which apparently sent shivers down Yuuri’s spine. Viktor pinches a bunch of fabric in between his fingers and grinded his erection against Yuuri’s clothed one, revelling in the jagged moan that escaped Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri’s hands ball into fists against Viktor’s chest.

Viktor lowered his head slightly to whisper against his ear, “There’s no need for this in the shower, right Yuuri?” He says, tugging at the soft fabric as emphasis. Yuuri grumbles and tugs on the shirt that Viktor still has on.

Viktor notices it and promptly takes his shirt off from over his head before he lips his finger down the waistband of Yuuri’s boxer briefs and tugs it down past his hips and halfway down his upper thighs.

Once they were completely out of their clothes, Viktor takes Yuuri by the hand and leads him to the shower stall and turned on the hot water and let the water cascade down against his and Yuuri’s bare skin.

Viktor presses Yuuri against the dark tiles that lined the walls and kissed him senseless, burying his hands in Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri wraps his arms around Viktor’s waist and grinds their erections together, moaning into each other’s mouths in the process.

Viktor moves his hand downwards and grips their erections together and starts pumping it, coaxing it back to full hardness, all the while he moved his mouth from Yuuri’s mouth and trails kisses down the line of Yuuri’s jaw and the nape of his neck.

“I…I thought—ah—I thought I was going to finish sucking you off…” Yuuri managed to gasp in between his laboured breathing. Viktor lets out a soft chuckle as he works his way back to Yuuri’s mouth but doesn’t kiss him just yet, opting to press their foreheads together instead as he formulates his reply.

“We have plenty of opportunity to do it again though, next time. Right now, we need to address you too.” Viktor feels Yuuri shiver and meets his heated gaze that tells Viktor that he’s already anticipating doing it.

“Eager, aren’t you?” Viktor teases with a sly grin but Yuuri doesn’t make any indication to deny it or even be embarrassed. He licks his lips and keeps his eyes hooded while he stares back at Viktor, his caramel brown eye were practically smouldering with want and Viktor would really have let him do it right then and there, had he not felt like he was incredibly close already and they didn’t have any time to do anything else but what they were doing in his shower.  

The pre-cum spilling from the slits of their shaft make it easier to pump their erections faster and Viktor hears Yuuri hiss in between his teeth and panting that he was getting close. Viktor slots his lips against Yuuri’s again, his tongue sliding against Yuuri’s and swallows his moans.

When Viktor cums, he feels Yuuri follow. Viktor curls his toes and his legs tense while he’s still on his high. When they finally come down, Viktor sags against Yuuri and follows him as they both slide over to the tiled floor, breathing heavily and resting their bodies against one another.

“You know, I’d _gladly_ get on my knees for you.” He says against Yuuri’s skin. He hears Yuuri’s breath hitch. After a short pause, Viktor then adds, “Though, maybe we’ll save it for next weekend.”

Yuuri laughs softly. “I’m looking forward to it already.”

 

\--

 

Viktor comes to learn from their time after their proper bath that Yuuri was efficient and fast on his heels. He pattered about Viktor’s bedroom (while Viktor kept the wardrobe door on so they could talk while they put on their clothes) in quick, almost calculated movements. While Viktor was still standing barefoot with only his slacks on that wasn’t even zipped up or buttoned in the ten minutes he has been standing in his walk-in wardrobe, Yuuri was already dressed and ready for the day and simply was sitting in front of Viktor’s vanity table to blow dry his hair, dressed smartly in dark pants and a navy button-down polo shirt.

“Yuuri,” Viktor takes out two dress shirts from the rack and presents it to him. “What do you think I should wear today?” He presents one white and one dark grey to him, his smile expectant.

“…Viktor, you can choose on your own, can’t you?” Yuuri says as an amused smile form across his lips.

“Aw, but I’m going to meet your friends again, aren’t I? I have to look my best.”

“They’re not going to have a welcome committee at the gate and I won’t let you escort me to class.” Yuuri responds, stifling a laugh when Viktor pouts petulantly at him.

Yuuri sighs and sets down the blow dryer and joins him by the clothing racks. He gives Viktor a fond look and then asks, “If I tell you to put on a… Muse t-shirt on, will you do it?”

Viktor laughs sheepishly, having absolutely no clue what the hell Muse was or even a single T-shirt in his massive walk-in closet. “I don’t think I have any T-shirts on me. If I do, then I don’t know where I put them.” Viktor admits.

Yuuri chuckles under his breath and then scans the two shirts Viktor was still holding up. “Do you have work today?” Viktor responds with a simple nod and Yuuri goes back to being silent and ponders over the selection.

“Okay. This one,” Yuuri takes the white shirt over the dark grey one and patters about until he finds the drawer for the neckties. He doesn’t take too long to search for a tie and pulls out a black Ralph Lauren silk necktie and gives it to him.

“And wear a waistcoat too.” He adds.

“Something tells me you like seeing me in a suit.” Viktor says as he takes the tie and returns the grey dress shirt back into the rack. Yuuri has the audacity to blush after showing so much bravado not too long ago and Viktor wants to fling himself at him and squeeze him tight but he holds his grounds and merely smirks at Yuuri’s reaction.

Still, he said nothing more and Yuuri didn’t say anything either, opting to go back to finishing blow drying his hair. Some ten more minutes later, they both step out of the walk-in wardrobe dressed and ready for the day. Viktor takes a camel-coloured Burberry trench coat from his selection and drapes it over the foot of the made bed.

Viktor picks up Yuuri’s new pea coat from where he had draped it the night ago and helps Yuuri into it, kissing him hard but briefly when he made an attempt to protest (albeit very weakly). As Viktor smoothed down the lapels of Yuuri’s coat, he felt a slight bump on the end of the left lapel. His smile freezes for a slight second but managed to school it before Yuuri can really notice.

Taking both ends of the lapel in both hands, he feels something cold and metallic underneath the touch of his finger and pulls the device out and gives Yuuri a satisfied smile.

“Thank you. Shall I do the same for you?”

“Please.” Viktor nods, his hand slipping into the pocket of his slacks to secure the device on his person before raising his arms and slipping them into the trench coat that Yuuri offers him.

“Shall we go? We can grab something on the go, if you don’t mind.” Viktor offers, thinking about his well-stocked pantry, which reminds him that his precious poodle Makkachin also needed to be fed.

Yuuri considers it while he’s checking his phone, probably for the time. Viktor pulls on the sleeve of his outfit to check his own time and sees that it was a better to get on the road before a full blown gridlock traffic kicks in.

They went downstairs and both find Makkachin by the couch. Upon noticing Yuuri and Viktor, his poodle jumps from his spot and tackles Yuuri to the ground but thankfully, Yuuri managed to retain his balance and coo at the poodle while he scratches behind his ear. Makkachin manages to lick Yuuri’s cheeks in appreciation.

“Makkachin is going to miss you.” Viktor comments while he patters about in the kitchen, taking out Makkachin’s dog food from the overhead cabinets.

Yuuri smiles. “Are you going to miss me, Makkachin? Are you?” Yuuri continues to speak in his cooing baby talk, which excites Makkachin even more that the poodle even barks in response. Yuuri laughs.

Viktor glances at the two of them briefly and he smiles at the sight. Makkachin was a perfectly trained guard dog underneath that puppy-like demeanour of his and Viktor trusted the judgement of his dog, who has been his companion for much longer than his relationships have lasted combined. Seeing that Makkachin was perfectly at ease with Yuuri, it made him feel a bit better about bringing him to his apartment in the first place.

Once Makkachin had been fed and enough food and water was left to keep him preoccupied for the day, Viktor helps carry Yuuri’s things to lift where he takes him to the second-floor basement of the building where Viktor’s cars were parked, as were everyone else’s from the building.

Yuuri notices the Audi immediately on one of the five parking lots that was reserved under Viktor’s name but Viktor doesn’t go for that car as he opts for the one on the end of the line with the shiny Bentley insignia at the very front of the car.

It was sleek, with a polished shine that meant that Viktor was obviously proud of maintaining it. Yuuri isn’t a stranger to name brands and the sort—something he was thankful for—but he did take a moment to take it all. Yuuri stares at it for half a minute before he helps Viktor pack his things in the back of the car and settles on the front seat of the car with Viktor following him shortly afterwards and settling on the driver’s seat and strapped himself in.

“I am so glad there won’t be a welcoming committee.” Yuuri mumbles, sounding like he was addressing it mostly to himself rather than to Viktor.

Once they were on the road, the early part of the ride was spent mostly in silence, save for the music playing the background – this time being Franz Liszt’s compositions. The silence wasn’t awkward or tense but it just felt odd to Viktor. They spent most of the weekend just talking (amongst other things) about themselves, their lives and whatnot.

It reminds Viktor of the fact that he never asked about Yuuri’s scars, which he remembers that he noticed just a while ago. He never really noticed it while they were having sex – even the first time they did it, his scars were hidden in the darkness of the barely illuminated hotel room – and most of the time, Viktor was looking at Yuuri’s face and the different expressions that he makes.

Now though, the curiosity was burning inside him and it wasn’t going to be easily assuaged. A part of Viktor knew that asking wasn’t a good idea – there had to be a story being those numerous scars and Viktor knew it wasn’t going to be pretty, but at the same time, he thought that he ought to know so he can know Yuuri’s boundaries.

He glances at Yuuri from the corner of his eye. He was glancing out of the window, his gaze impassive and neutral. Viktor glances back at the road and his hands grip the steering wheel. The question is at the tip of his tongue but Viktor tries to rationalize it in his head again—

“Is there something on your mind?” Yuuri asks, his tone concerned. “You’ve been holding on to the steering wheel tightly for the past ten minutes. Is there something bothering you?”

“Um, not really. I just wanted… to ask you something.”

Yuuri tilts his head to the side. “Ask away, then.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Viktor is half hoping he doesn’t but at the same time does. “But… I wanted to ask you about your scars.”

Yuuri blinks a couple of seconds before comprehension dawned on him. “Oh.” He says. He turns away from Viktor to look contemplatively up at nondescript space and Viktor’s stomach is suddenly in knots from the anticipation.

“…I was wondering when you would ask. I assume you just noticed just now?” Viktor nods dumbly in assent, then immediately wondering if that was a bad answer. What if Yuuri takes it the wrong way? Viktor grips the steering wheel tighter and looks straight ahead, waiting practically on bated breath for Yuuri's next words.

Yuuri seems to have found his voice again. With a deep breath, he began to explain. "... When I was sixteen, my family got into a car accident. We fell off a cliff's edge on our way to our new home after moving out of Hasetsu. The official police report says it was due to faulty brake mechanisms that my father couldn't turn at the curve properly. My mother and father were dead on the spot from the impact but my sister and I were still alive but barely.” Yuuri pauses, his one hand finding his other to grip it tightly as if to keep himself in check.

After a while, he takes deep breath and continues. “When we got to the hospital, Mari was dead on arrival. I... had a few broken ribs, a skull fracture, some bruises on my face, a broken arm and leg and several cuts and bruises but I survived. It was apparently a miracle that I did." His voice was distant; he seemed absolutely detached from his own story though Viktor feels that he couldn't be blamed since Viktor himself had asked in the first place and even he would rather want to disconnect to such a tragedy.

"I'm sorry." Viktor offers genuinely.

"It's okay." Yuuri says with a soft, humourless laugh. It sounded grating in Viktor's ears - he didn't like Yuuri ever sounding so dejected ever again. "It was a long time ago. Not many people know it too. Only Phichit, Yuuko and her husband… and now you.”

After a while, Viktor found his voice again to ask, “…What happened then?”

It seemed easier for Yuuri to reply as he explains, “I was in the hospital for about a month and then went into physical therapy for the next months afterwards. The damage wasn’t so bad on my legs but I still had to be in crutches. The doctor said that I could still skate again but I didn’t take it up until after I left Japan.” Viktor’s eyes are drawn for a second to Yuuri’s legs before he diverts his attention back on the road.  

“I was taken in by a family friend for the time being while I was in physical therapy. I didn’t have any relatives to take me in back in Japan since they were either too far away or they couldn’t afford to keep me.” Yuuri continues to explain.

"But... how did you come to America, then?"

"A distant relative who lived here eventually took me in and took me here. We settled in the East Coast before moving Midwest until we found ourselves here in the East Coast.” Yuuri says easily. "He helped me acquire citizenship and took care of me for two years or so. I didn’t want to inconvenience my guardian at that time since he was clearly enjoying the single life and suddenly having to take care of a teenager probably didn’t seem like a fun idea to him. So, I emancipated myself from him at eighteen and applied for a scholarship and take part-time jobs to earn pocket money.”  

"I see...” Viktor finds himself nodding. “You’ve been through quite a lot. I’m sorry that I pried.”

Yuuri shrugs his shoulders noncommittally. “It’s okay. It would have come up later so I suppose it was the best for us to get it over with. I don’t want you to think that I’m pitiful.“

“You’re _not_ Yuuri.” Viktor’s tone was insistent. “Don’t ever think that. Don’t ever think that I’ll ever think that, okay?”

Yuuri blinks at him before his eyes soften and he smiles at Viktor, nodding once in assent. Viktor smiles back.

“What about you?” Yuuri then asks, his tone a lot more cheerful though rather subtle. “What’s your family like?”

“My family?” Viktor hums in contemplation. He thinks into the deepest parts of his early childhood memories—or what he can remember, anyways—and tries to paint the picture of his childhood. Since he was a child, Yakov has only really been the family that he knows of. His ex-wife Lilia Baranovskaya wasn’t much of a mother-figure while she and Yakov were together but she was also a prominent in his life by teaching him poise, manners and to appreciate the finer things in life.

Makkachin came into his life much later but he’s pretty much part of his family too. He certainly deems him more important than Yakov or anyone else, for that matter.

Viktor wasn’t allowed outside to play with others. He had all the toys and trinkets that money could buy to occupy his time within the high walls of Yakov’s mansion. It was like he was trapped in a gilded cage, but the thing was—was he really _trapped_ when he never struggled with the restrains in the first place?

He supposes it’s not the case at all. Yakov had provided him a roof over his head, good food to eat and a nice bed to sleep on and Viktor was eternally grateful to his guardian for giving him that comfortable of a life that even not having a so-called normal childhood was a small price to pay.

Finally having the words to say, Viktor says, “I’ve been raised by my uncle since I was a baby.” Viktor tries not to laugh as he began to explain. Yakov Feltsman was probably not even remotely related to Viktor by blood by any means, but he can’t exactly say that a man in his late early seventies could be his father, should there ever be an opportunity for he and Yuuri to meet. That just leads to some disturbing imagery that Viktor doesn’t want to think now, of all the times to do so.

Clearing his throat, he continued on. “I don’t really know what happened to my parents and I’ve gone through half my life not knowing and not having any problems with it. My uncle’s unusually harsh but he’s a big softie in the end. I usually got into trouble with him when I was a teenager.” And maybe sometimes as an adult, he adds internally.

Yuuri chuckles. “What? Did you sneak out and smoke cigarettes in secluded playgrounds deep in the night?”

Viktor laughs at the imagery. “No. I don’t smoke but you’re only half-right.” He did sneak out a lot of times when he was around the age of sixteen, just learning about ice skating and wanting to know how he could do it. The first time around, he tested it out on a frozen lake just a few ways away from the mansion but he didn’t take into account just how frozen the ice was in actuality.

Yakov and Lilia threw a fit when he returned, shivering from the cold and drenched head to toe in ice water. Viktor told Yuuri just as much, foregoing some details, like how his punishment for sneaking out was an added 5 hours to his already arduous practical training session.

Viktor couldn’t get the gunpowder smell from his hands for _days_ and his joints ached a lot more after running more suicides than he could possibly count.

“What were you like as a kid?”

Viktor smiles somewhat fondly as he remembers. “I was… pretty much an… easy-going kid.” He says with internal trepidation.

“I was definitely spoiled rotten but you know that though I was never showy. It was only when I was a teenager, amped up on hormones and whatnot that I started rebelling. I grew my hair out past my waist and wore makeup—not too much, just a natural look; didn’t want to look like a trashy hooker—and nail polish just to spite my uncle since his reactions were hilarious. My aunt didn’t mind; she liked styling my hair and doing my makeup for me. Eventually I did stop the makeup. It took too long to remove that it was a hassle.”

“Wait, _you_ had long hair?” Yuuri’s jaw drops open at the sheer shock of the revelation. Viktor laughs and nods.

“Yes, I had it long until I was twenty… I loved having long hair too though it did get bothersome to maintain.” Viktor explains. Not by choice, he adds. It was from an unfortunate mistake on his part during an assignment but Viktor pushed the memory out of his mind.  

 “Will I ever get to see pictures of it?” he asks, looking somewhat expectant.

The thing was, to keep the image of normalcy, Viktor _does_ have childhood photos. Not a lot but they existed. There was nothing incriminating about them that any law enforcement agency could use against him (not that he even has a record, for that matter). They were always meticulously scripted and did so for just for the sake of doing so but nonetheless documents Viktor as he was a child until he was the man he was today. So, he nods. “Next weekend, maybe? I’ll bring out the photo albums.”

“I can’t wait.” Yuuri says, his excited grin practically blinding and Viktor yells in triumph internally at the fact that it was directed at him.

“What about you? What were you like as a child?” Viktor imagines a small, cute child with rounded cheeks and a mop of black hair that falls naturally around his head.

Yuuri shrugs his shoulders. “I was…quiet, shy and was dedicated to ice skating and if I’m not doing that, I’m studying or helping out at the onsen. I only had two friends back then and that was Yuuko and her now husband.”

Yuuri then goes on to explain what being an ice skater was like, which was mostly filled with training, going off to different places in Japan to compete and train some more if the results of those competitions weren’t up to Yuuri’s (absurdly) high standards. He was apparently Japan’s junior national champion for four years straight but never managed to debut into seniors or even go international since his parents couldn’t afford the travelling fees and he didn’t want to burden them with attempting to pay for it either.

And, there was the accident that put those senior debut plans to a full stop.

He made no mention of any past lovers he might have had while in school, though, as Viktor listens, he can hardly see Yuuri interacting with any romantic interests with the kind of busy life he led back then. If he wasn’t training, travelling or competing, he was studying, practicing ballet or helping at his family’s business. He also did openly admit he only had two friends close to his age and never made the effort to put himself out there because of how skittish he was around people.

“Will I get to see it?” Viktor asks. At Yuuri’s slightly confused look, he elaborates, “Your childhood photos. Will I get to see them?”

At this Yuuri gave him a sad smile. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to recover any photo albums.”

Ah, Viktor thinks. From the accident. He nods solemnly and immediately dives into another topic to avoid the rest of the ride to have any lingering uncomfortable feelings permeating the air. The rest of the car journey was spent listening to more Einaudi compositions and then some more small talk like asking about Yuuri's schoolwork and Viktor's work.

As can be expected from someone on a full-ride scholarship, Yuuri was nothing short of studious. Having two majors might have made his life a bit more difficult but he liked the challenge and he honestly doesn’t see himself doing anything but studying while at school. He claims that if it weren’t for Phichit or Yuuko, Yuuri would be holed up in his dorm room or the library, doing nothing but studying in between going to class and doing his part-time job.

“Before you even ask, I do attend parties every now and then though I always have Phichit with me.”

On the other hand, the Russian man found it particularly hard to elaborate on his work without delving into specifics. What he does find as his lucky break was with each mundane truths he said about his work, the less appealing he found it wanting to work at Viktor's "armed security" company.

Viktor might have to keep a notepad of all the lies he’s made to keep himself consistent.  

"I don’t know how my business and economics degrees will help at an armed security company.” Yuuri laments before timidly asking, “Does that mean you know how to shoot, with a gun?"

Oh, honey, you have no idea. "Kind of?" Viktor offers. "How about you, though? You seem to have been quite skilled."

Yuuri flushes at the praise before quickly answering, "Yeah, with an _airsoft_ gun." Yuuri says, rolling his eyes. "Phichit likes to take me and Yuuko to these airsoft arenas. I had to learn because I hate getting beaten by them _constantly_. It’s kind of hard to play when you’ve got negative ten out of twenty vision but I managed."

So that's why he knew proper gun safety, Viktor thought. He noticed this during their date at Coney Island. His posture, knowledge of gun safety (like putting his finger over the trigger guard rather than on the trigger itself while he was still aiming to shoot) and his sharpshooting skills tell of an experienced person and airsoft guns was about as close as one can get to the real ones.

Suddenly, he has an idea.

"Shall we have a game then? Just the two of us? Or, if you want, we can invite your friends along." Viktor asks with a grin. It was definitely unfair when he had twenty years-worth of experience with firearms (amongst other things) but he can go easy.

Yuuri seemed very keen on the idea. "You sure?” Viktor nods and Yuuri laughs like a giddy child. “You are so on." Maybe it was the light but he could have sworn there was a sparkle in his eyes as he showed his enthusiasm and Viktor’s heart just about melts.

Viktor found it hard to part with Yuuri once they arrived at the front of the University campus. Viktor never really paid attention back then but Yuuri… packed a lot of things for the weekend. He had two large travel bags in the backseat and then his bag-pack. Yuuri notices his gaze and flushes crimson.

“I… I… uh, I packed too many things.” He offers lamely. “I didn’t know just how much I needed and I tend to overthink things about how much I actually need—“

“I’ll help you get these to the dorms, then.” Viktor says simply. He takes his car keys from the ignition and gets out of the car and shuts the door behind him. Yuuri follows him out from his side of the car but beats Viktor to it when he was getting the bags out of the backseat of the car. Viktor slugs one bag over his shoulder while he fishes out his keys to turn on the alarms.

“You don’t have to—“

“Too late.” Viktor sing-songs and takes Yuuri’s hand with his free one and marches inside with him in tow. Yuuri quietly sighs but it isn’t out of tired exasperation and simply tightens his grip on Viktor’s hand and matches his pace to walk closely beside him.

Viktor didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings, opting to sneak glances at Yuuri but he kept his placid expression as they were walking towards the direction of the dormitories. When they finally arrived, it was to find some students running up and down the hall in panicked frenzies, asking for things from other dormers and running around in towels yelling about how they were late or they needed to get going to God knows where, all the while the Resident Assistants (and other, less frazzled sane people) had to keep everyone at bay.

Viktor had to whistle in awe at the sheer chaos he was witnessing. He may have gone to college but he was safely tucked away in a nice off-campus apartment during those years.

Well, he’s not exactly fond of the rowdiness so he guesses that he didn’t miss anything.

“Welcome to college.” Yuuri grumbles. “I think it would best if I take it from here. This is no man’s land.”

“Won’t that mean that no man is allowed in that area?”

“…Okay, not the right terminology then but still. Unless you want to get hit by projectile bars of soap, you might want to—“ His words were suddenly drowned out by the sound of someone exclaiming to duck down. Viktor turns his attention towards the sound and briefly notices something fast and pastel coloured flying straight towards him.

Next thing he knows, Yuuri is holding his head, groaning in pain and, most importantly, actually standing (well, slouching from the pain, more like) in front of Viktor.

“Yuuri! Are you okay?” Viktor drops the bags and rushes to Yuuri’s front. Everyone seemed to have gone quiet. Viktor spares them a glance over his shoulders and the offender who presumably threw the soap looked like a deer in the headlights.

The RA gasps in horror and stars screaming at everyone else who was causing a ruckus earlier on that they’re in deep trouble, which in turn makes everyone hightail back to their respective rooms in terror. The RA huffs in annoyance, grumbling as they looked at all the closed doors and the suddenly empty hallway before they hurry over to Yuuri and ask them gently if he was okay. 

Yuuri mumbles something about getting a bruise but otherwise, he says he’s okay, laughing sheepishly and straightening up while his hand was still rubbing at the side of his head, which was where the offending bar of soap must have hit him.

“Don’t worry, Katsuki, I’ll make sure that asshole Jeremy won’t be excused for this. C’mon, I’ll get you some ice for it.” Yuuri looked like he was about to protest but Viktor agreed to the RA’s notion. He made a motion to pick up the bags from where he dropped off the floor but the RA stopped him.

“I think it would be better if you just left.” She had said and Viktor’s brows furrowing at the terse dismissal. Realizing how she must have sounded, she quickly amended by explaining, “Look, people are practically expecting to see you, uh… Yuuri’s boyfriend.” She says hastily. “It’s not exactly a secret around the school that Yuuri has a boyfriend now and people are practically dying to know who you are and you saw just how… rowdy these kids can get.”

Viktor blinks. He catches a few… interesting phrases as she spoke. If his assumptions were correct, wouldn’t her words imply that Yuuri was well-known throughout the school that talks of his love life would be a heated conversation starter?

“I see.” Viktor says placidly. “Yuuri, would you like me to go?” Viktor asks him gently. Yuuri pouts, looking somewhat torn but then he relents and nods, placating Viktor with a gentle smile and a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll text you every day.” Viktor says, pulling Yuuri into a hug and kissing his temple. Yuuri laughs and hugs him back before the RA clears her throat and Viktor looks up to find her blushing to the roots of her dyed blonde hair. Viktor sighs petulantly but takes that as his cue to leave. Viktor leaves one last kiss on Yuuri’s forehead before he turns around and waves at Yuuri from over his shoulder as he makes his way out of the dormitory building before turning away completely once Yuuri was out of sight and making a bee-line back to the campus gates.

His smile drops to a thin line as his right hand was fiddling with the button-cell-sized listening device in the pocket of his slacks. Once he was in the safety of his car, Viktor takes the device out and rolls it in between his thumb and index finder, his critical eyes examining its metallic gleam.

Viktor wonders how it got there in the first place. His eyes flicker to the campus gates and thinks of Yuuri for the briefest of moments before he changes his mind and shakes the very idea out of his head. The bug was found in the lapels of Yuuri’s _brand new_ jacket and Viktor has been with Yuuri for most of the weekend, even holding him close (or him holding Viktor close) while they slept.

Plus, like he had observed, it wasn’t even easy to get a listening device of high quality. He doesn’t doubt Yuuri’s story from earlier. He may be self-sufficient but he doesn’t have thousands of dollars lying around to be able to afford something like a bug.

And for what? To let Phichit hear about his sex life? Viktor highly doubts that. Viktor peers at the device in his fingers again, glaring at it for making him doubt Yuuri, even for the briefest of moments. If it were those toys you’d find on an online shopping store like eBay or those bogus “spy equipment” websites, then he could just pinch it between his fingers and it’ll break easily because of the flimsy materials used to make it.

Viktor reaches over for his glove compartment and searches through the numerous items until he finds a metal box. He takes it out and sets it down on his lap, opening to reveal a long row of metal-framed magnifying glasses of varying sizes and levels of magnification. He picks up the smallest one and peers at the details of the device in his fingers.

The design was compact and sleek. There were no manufacturing labels on it, and for good reason—so that it couldn’t easily be traced with any serial numbers and whatnot. He huffs, an unamused smile tugging at his lips. Of course it wouldn’t have. It’s an in-house production at a company he knew oh so well.

Viktor had to laugh at his lack of attention, but it was unamused and forced. He stuffed the small device in the inner pocket of his coat and set aside his magnifying glass kit. There was the sound of his phone ringing but he chooses to ignore it in favour of turning on his car and leaving the school premises.

 

\--

 

Viktor arrived to work at around twenty-minutes past eleven. There isn’t really any fixed working schedule like a nine-to-five job would have but he always had a routine that let him arrive to work at ten am sharp though he couldn’t exactly go through his normal routine when he was taking his boyfriend back to his school.

Viktor doesn’t really care much for the disruption—quite the opposite, really—because he knows just who is going to be pissed off that he’s not showing up when he knows Viktor will be; which is exactly what he wants.

Viktor gets into the lift and makes his way, not to the top floor or the second basement where the training rooms were at but settles for the first basement where the weapon testing laboratories and in-house manufacturing machineries were located, as well as the techkies that hunched over their machines and computers to oversee everything is going according to plan.

For today, however, he was more interested in the head honcho of these band of techkies for a bit of chit-chat. He’d really like to do more but it’s a shame that he’s not armed (he couldn’t while he was in Yuuri’s presence) but Viktor never really needed weaponry to keep anyone in check, if he puts his mind to it.

Viktor stands in front of the thick metal doors. There were two sets of biometric scanners in the form of iris recognition and fingerprint analysis scans just off to the side on the left side of the door but Viktor knows that only those who work within the walls of the laboratories could have been given access through those doors and he’s not an exception. Instead, he glances upwards the security camera, smiling genially and waving at it, knowing full well that the man he was looking for was looking right at him.

A few seconds later, the thick metal doors part ways and he slips right on through. There were a lot of wary stares and hushed murmurs as he strides purposefully down the aisles but he ignores them and hums a song under his breath to further emphasize the lack of fucks he gives about them. Finally, he arrives at the front of another set of metal doors but this time, it opens just as he was only a few steps away. He spots the man he was looking for immediately.

Emil Nekola was a tall young man, standing at six feet, and was in his early twenties. He had a head of messy, sandy blonde hair and a short beard that covered up his jawline. He currently had black-rimmed anti-radiation, anti-glare computer reading glasses over his dark blue eyes and looked up at Viktor with a cheerful smile that didn’t seem forced.

Then again, Viktor thought, Emil had always been a kind and cheerful guy; the kind who wouldn’t mind getting a hug from someone he barely knows and walks old ladies down the street and hardly seems like someone with a dark, hidden agenda. It almost makes Viktor not want to do what he’s about to do to him.

He walks on over to Emil and reaches for the listening device from the inner pocket of his coat, setting it down on his desk as soon as he was at the front of it. Emil’s smile freezes on his face at the sight of it. His gaze seems worried now.

“I thought you might want it back.” Viktor says casually. “Did you have a good show?”

The smile fades out altogether. “I… um… no, no I…” Emil stammers, unable to even keep his smile as he breaks out in a cold sweat. The air within the room suddenly was tense and suffocating, with people hunching over their computers a little bit too much more just to escape the quickly escalating situation.

“C’mon, Emil. I can put two and two together. Bugging Yuuri isn’t enough to keep me under surveillance. I hardly think you can put an image on our voices. You could have hacked into my home security system and hijacked my cameras. You’re smart enough to do that, right?” Viktor tilts his head as he gives Emil a bright smile that to the ignorant might have come across as jovial but in reality, it was anything but.

Emil was at a loss for words and he was trembling in his seat. Viktor leans forward, placing a hand on the surface of the desk and says icily, “Would you be a dear and delete footage from last Saturday?”

Emil blinks at him in confusion until realization hit him. He starts to go red and it’s clear to Viktor that he has seen what he doesn’t need to see.

Viktor starts to straighten up and stares at Emil impassively, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat and tilting his head to the side slightly, letting his asymmetrical fringe fall over his left eye.

“Well?” Viktor says tersely. “Are you going to do it or not?”

“Ye… yes! Yes, of course.” Emil says frantically, immediately moving his chair forwards to one of his four-monitor units and typing rapidly on the keyboard. Viktor strides around the desk and sees his work from over Emil’s shoulder, noticing the young man’s shoulders tense though the speed of his fingers don’t waver.

It only took thirty minutes for the footage of his and Yuuri’s bedroom escapades (and then some) to be deleted. Viktor would have had more deleted—like the entirety of the footage Emil had taken from his home—but so as long as his most intimate moments with Yuuri was for his mind to play and nobody else could see it, then he’s not going to care what they had to do with the surveillance footage they had in the first place.

Viktor doesn’t say thank you, even when Lilia’s teachings echoes in his head, and he strides out of the room without glancing back. He could have sworn he heard a collective sigh of relief or that could just be the hiss of the metal doors sliding back to a close.

 

\--

 

Tension permeated in the air as soon as Viktor arrived at his floor. Whether the rumours of his foul mood had spread out throughout the company already or people were always that tense around him, Viktor didn’t care. He makes a bee line for his table and finds Chris already there, sorting out the paperwork that littered his desk space.

Chris glances over his shoulder and straightens up while still holding a few manila folders in his hands before he turns fully to face Viktor’s approaching figure. His lips were curving to form a half-smile but it was a half-hearted attempt as his green eyes were wary as he scanned Viktor up and down then back again, before finally meeting Viktor’s impassive stare. “What crawled up your ass and died?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

It was a poor attempt to lighten the mood, Viktor notes. The Russian man shrugs off his coat and sets it over the armrest of his desk chair before crossing his arms against his chest and giving Chris a critical look.

“I just found that I’ve been monitored for the weekend. Emil caught everything but I had him delete what is only meant for me to see and no one else.“

Before Chris could make a retort, Viktor continued to say, “And that my boyfriend was even bugged. I can only imagine that it has to be that man whom we encountered yesterday. No one else has had contact with that pea coat and I doubt Amber Lynn from Barney’s had anything to do with it.”

He sees Chris, observes his stance and sees the way his shoulders tense. Viktor’s gaze flickers upwards and it was for the briefest moment but Viktor noticed the slight bob of his Adam’s apple from an inaudible gulp and then, his gaze darted to the exact moment where he caught sight of the very slight twitch of Chris’s pinky finger.

Chris was someone who _oozes_ sex appeal and confidence. There was hardly a time when he doesn’t get by on just pure luck and swagger so when he tenses up; when that deep well of confidence of his suddenly has a visible bottom, then Viktor knows something was up. Only years of friendship and close proximity from working together could have allowed Viktor to read Chris as easily as he could.

He remembers the Italian man from yesterday who collided with Yuuri. That man’s height, the width of the broadness of his shoulders and the inflection of his voice was clearly someone who was not of actual Italian origin but was fluent enough in the language to be mistaken for a native, at least for someone who isn’t observant enough to know.

He didn’t say anything at that time, as he was with Yuuri, but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t notice it either.

No matter how much makeup he wears or how dowdy his clothes were, Chris Giacometti was still Chris. Viktor didn’t even need a verbal response from Chris to know that he was involved in this whole ordeal.

Viktor knew that Chris must have had his orders but it doesn’t make it okay for Chris to spy on them, especially when he could have witnessed more private, intimate moments that he didn’t want anyone else to be privy too, especially when it concerned Yuuri and _his_ privacy. He could hardly care about it if it was just _him_ being monitored but concerning another person who was not involved with his other lifestyle was a different topic entirely.

Without offering another word, Viktor straightened up and headed for the elevators again. He ignores Chris’s attempts to get his attention and pointedly closes the lift doors to not let Chris in when he attempts to join him in the small space.

 

\--

 

Viktor finds himself outside the building, looking at the hustle and bustle of Manhattan residents. He was out in the open, unguarded by armour, weaponry and back-up but he doesn’t want to go back inside. He glances on either side of the pavement before turning his heel and started walking on the left side of the street.

He didn’t know where he was going but anywhere was better than going back inside where he might do something incredibly stupid.

He realizes he was being followed when he was a few block away from his building already and isn’t the least bit surprised to find that it was Chris who was hurrying up to him. He had since removed his necktie and seemed slightly out of breath that his forehead was slightly damp. He had Viktor’s coat with him and as soon as Chris was standing a bit closer, it was the first thing he hands back to him.

“Is it bugged again?” Viktor asks coldly in a low voice and Chris frown at him. He warily glances at the surrounding area, fearing eavesdroppers, but people minded their own business here in New York and no one spared them a glance as they powerwalked down the pavement.

“No.” Chris says finally. “But, if you want to talk, then let’s talk somewhere else.”

Viktor narrowed his eyes and was about to say no but Chris wasn’t having any of his childish shit. He grabbed Viktor by the arm and dragged him off to the side of the street. They kept on walking until they found themselves at the edge of Battery Park, where they overlooked the waters at Esplanade Plaza.

They were relatively alone, as Chris had the foresight to drag Viktor to the farthest part where there were so little people to have their talk.

For the first few minutes, they were quiet. Viktor opts to look over at the Hudson River than say anything, listening to the gentle waves and the background noise of their surroundings. Chris leans against the railings, his gaze neutral but slightly contemplative.

After a while, Chris finally broke the silence.

“I was under direct orders not to tell you about it,” Chris says plainly. “And as much as I value our friendship, Viktor, orders are orders.”

Viktor clicked his tongue petulantly. “Yakov put you up to this, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Chris says easily. He turns his back from the view of the water in favour of leaning his back against the railing and resting his elbows over the balustrade before continuing to say, “By now, he should know about your… excursion to Emil’s office and how you’re not exactly happy to be at the office right now. Don’t hate Emil, by the way. He’s also under orders.”

After a moment, Viktor turned to look at Chris, his brows furrowed in frustration and asked the simple question of why.

Chris sighs before turning to look at Viktor, his gaze slightly wary. He chews on his bottom lip before finally finding the words to say. “He… he’s observed your actions in the past few weeks. They’re very different from your normal routine.”

“So what? He’s never cared about who I dated before.” Viktor said tersely.

“Yes, but you don’t normally act the way that you do when you’re with Yuuri.” Chris pauses before he shook his head. “Let me rephrase that; you’re never this _overt_ with your feelings before than when you are with Yuuri. You’ve always bottled things up unless it’s at a private setting. You don’t… well, gush about your partners the way you do with Yuuri. Am I even making sense to you?”

Begrudgingly, Viktor nods but he still fails to see what the problem is with that. He pinches the bridge of his nose and grunts in frustration. Chris continues to stare at him before elaborating further.

“Viktor,” He says reproachfully, straightening up and looking dead serious. “We’re used to you not being so… _vulnerable_. When you’re with Yuuri, it’s like a switch flipped inside you and you do a complete 180 to how you normally are.”

“Just because you’ve never seen me act the way that I do now, it doesn’t mean that I’ve changed,” Viktor points out. “He’s different from everyone else that I’ve dated in the past. I can’t treat him like some starlet from Los Angeles or some bored society hostess from Manhattan. He’s not like the rest so I can’t treat him like everybody else I’ve been with. Besides, I don’t treat _you_ the same way as I do other people. You should know by now that I’m not a changed person.”

“I get that but you gushing about him so openly… well, no one is used to it. _I’m_ used to it, after hearing you pining for him in the weeks you two have been apart. Yakov, on the other hand, isn’t,” Chris runs his hand through his dirty blonde hair. “He’s suspecting that Yuuri has somehow charmed the absolute hell out of you or you have simply lost your mind, possibly both because _you_ have somehow let Yuuri turn you into complete putty in his hands. You should know by now that Yakov’s… well, most of everyone, really, is used to your usual cold front.”

Reluctantly, Viktor nods but keeps up a stubborn front. “Then what’s the deal with vulnerability? It’s not like I close my eyes, stuff my ears and ignore my surroundings while I’m with Yuuri,” Viktor goes on to say. “I had my suspicions that it was you whom we bumped into yesterday but I can’t exactly call you out when I was with Yuuri. I’m quite aware of my surroundings whenever I’m up and about, Chris. I’m just not looking over my shoulder constantly just to show it.”

“I get that but didn’t you hear what I’ve been saying?” Chris groans exasperatedly. Viktor raises an eyebrow, challenging him to continue. Chris rolls his eyes and reiterates his point from earlier; about him openly gushing about Yuuri and missing him while they’re apart apparently got everyone’s panties in a twist.

“How the hell does me gushing about my boyfriend warrant something of this degree?” Viktor says tersely. “It doesn’t exactly warrant an entire surveillance operation on me and my personal dealings with my fucking boyfriend,” Viktor hisses exasperatedly.

“Yes, well, none of us actually expected you to let Yuuri into your home with open arms now, did we?” Viktor flinches. Chris notices it and continues on to say, “You yourself feared the worst when you thought that Yuuri might find your personal armoury and you can’t exactly cover it up by saying that it’s part of your panic room when you have about as much firepower to arm an entire brigade.”

“Well, he didn’t. I didn’t let him out of my sight,” Viktor pauses to rethink that statement, shaking his head and cringing. “That just sounded strange. I meant that I kept him preoccupied for most of the time. He also didn’t really have any inclination to explore the apartment either.”

“Yeah, because you kept him _preoccupied_ ,” Chris says with air quotes, his tone shifting to something akin to teasing and Viktor can’t help when his pout twitched into a brief lopsided smile before he tries to school his expression again.

They were quiet for a time but in that silence, Viktor became to contemplate. He can understand what Chris’s thought process was. He understands that people are used to him and his colder front. But he normally doesn’t care what others think of him anyway, so to know that his recent actions are affecting everybody, he can at least understand their fears and apprehensions.

It doesn’t mean he’ll accept the actions they’ve been taking, however. He doesn’t care if _he’s_ put under surveillance—as being Yakov’s pseudo-child already put him under a spotlight anyways—if it was just him but putting his boyfriend under watch too is unacceptable.

“Are you still mad at me for spying?”

After a moment, Viktor shrugs his shoulders. “Not really. I’m mostly annoyed that they, of all people, put you up to this and at Yakov for spying on Yuuri in the first place.”

“I know you best.” Chris replies genially, his lips forming a smirk. “I ate your soul years ago.”

“Eugh.” Viktor rolls his eyes and punches Chris playfully on the arm. Chris smacks him back lightly on the back and they shared a light chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all. Viktor’s tense shoulders relaxed and he leant back against the guard rails and let out a deep sigh.

“What else do you know?” Viktor asks.

Chris raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Did you dig up anything on Yuuri? Yakov is always thorough when he wants someone to be put under surveillance. He wants that person’s childhood photos if he has to.”

“Oh,” Chris replies. “Yes. Emil extensively researched him. Your boyfriend had quite the rough childhood.”

Viktor’s gaze flickers back to Chris. “He was in a car accident, am I right? He lost both his parents and his sister couldn’t be saved by the time they arrived at the hospital.”

Chris’s eyes widened. “How did you…” His voice trails away.

“He told me just a while ago, when I dropped him off at his school,” Viktor replies with a shrug of his shoulders, his gaze flickering to his shoes, remembering Yuuri’s distant tone and the sad look in his eyes.

“… He doesn’t seem to trust a lot of people with that kind of information,” Viktor says idly, directing the words mostly to himself than at Chris. “I don’t think he trust a lot of people either. Yuuri is different from everyone else so I don’t want to fuck it up, Chris. I don’t know what it is about him that makes me feel this way but I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Chris nods at him. “I’m not saying you can’t be with Yuuri, Viktor. But for your sake, and the sake of everyone else in the company that relies on your sharp senses, it would be best if you weren’t so overtly smitten about him, at least in their presence.”

Viktor rolls his eyes. “So, _all_ this drama over me gushing about Yuuri and taking a weekend off?” He says sardonically before continuing on to say, “What kind of fiasco would it be if I asked him to marry me?”

Unbelievably, Chris chokes on his own spit and sputters, his eyes widening in surprise. Viktor laughs at his hysterical expression.

“We’ll get there when we get there,” Viktor says, patting Chris on the back soothingly as he tries to smother his laugh. “I don’t think we’re ready for that part yet. For one thing, Yuuri still needs to graduate. I don’t want to rush things with him.”

Chris rolls his eyes at the last statement, which was maybe warranted considering the first thing they did after meeting at a bar was have mind-blowing sex in Viktor’s hotel room when they barely even knew each other apart from the basics. They definitely didn’t start out by-the-book.

“Yakov will probably have a massive hernia” Chris drawls while cringing at the mental image. Viktor merely shrugs. Like the man hasn’t lived through hell and back multiple times to live through something else life threatening.

Chris suddenly looks down at his arm, where he was still carrying Viktor’s jacket. He unceremoniously tosses it to his face and smirks at Viktor’s displeased pout, even rolled his eyes when Viktor neatly pats his hair down.

“You didn’t have to get my jacket, you know. I did leave it at the office.” Viktor says as he slips the garment on.

“Yeah, but there was a reason why I bought it but this little talk of ours distracted me,” Chris responds, casually waving his arm about. “Your phone has been ringing, after all and it just felt more dramatic if I bought the whole coat.”

“What?” Viktor palms his about his person until he feels the familiar shape of his phone and pulled it from the inner pocket of his jacket. He taps on the home button incessantly and is greeted by the sight of three missed call notifications and one text.

“Fuck.”

Chris snorts. “You know, it could not be Yuuri and you’re freaking out over nothing,” He points out helpfully, his tone clearly mocking. Viktor only calms down when he realizes that the three calls were from Yakov and the text was from Yuuri. He pays more attention to the text message than to the three missed phone calls.

 

> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [12:16 PM]** : Update, my head’s totally fine. Jeremy got a good hour-long lecture for hitting me with that bar of soap. Did you arrive back safely? Oh, Phichit and Yuuko says hi.
> 
> **You [12:41 PM]:** I’m glad that you’re okay. Tell them I said hello too. Yes, I’ve arrived at work and I’m out having lunch at the moment. How was class?
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [12:43 PM]** : It went well as expected. I have a study session at the library until my next class. I’ll text you when I’m free, okay?
> 
> **You [12:44 PM]: ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥**
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [12:45 PM]** : ( ˘ ³˘)♥
> 
> **You [12:46 PM]:** ( ๑ ᴖ ᴈ ᴖ)ᴖ ᴑ ᴖ๑)
> 
>  

\--

 

As Viktor had expected, Yakov was not happy to learn about Viktor’s actions, especially with the fact that he had all video files of him and Yuuri deleted. As soon as they had arrived back at the building, Yakov’s security team all but manhandled Viktor to the elevator where they had escorted him to their boss’s office. They didn’t dare touch him but Viktor would have gone up to Yakov’s office anyways (at least at a later time).

Yakov seemed ready to chew his head off and then some but he settled for glaring daggers at Viktor for the first five minutes he was standing in front of his desk before he finally had the words to speak, though it was just almost twenty minutes of him just going off on an angry Russian tirade that went through Viktor’s other ear.

It was only when they had approached the topic of Yuuri did Viktor pay close attention. Yakov threw around words like distraction and whatnot but Viktor said nothing until Yakov finally seemed to have finished his lecture.

“You hardly seemed to have cared about who I’ve dated in the past. We agreed before, Yakov—you don’t have any right to interfere with my personal life. Yuuri is part of that.”

“He’s distracting you.” Yakov grits out. “You’re not like this, Vitya—“

“He is not,” Viktor responds back, his tone hard and clipped. He narrows his eyes at Yakov, his gaze challenging. “Just because you haven’t seen me act the way I do now doesn’t mean that it’s not a part of me. You’re just not used to me being like this. None of you are. You’re more used to me being the so-called Ice King more than anything else.”

Yakov looked like he was about to retort to that, changed his mind and settled for glaring daggers at Viktor.

“You really seemed to have forgotten, Yakov—I am _not_ your son. You don’t _own_ me. You may have raised me and I am thankful for that but we both agreed that once I turned eighteen that I could live my life the way I wanted to without you interfering, so as long as I work for you. You can’t control me and who I see in my personal time is _none of your fucking business_ because my actions now are through my own volition and Yuuri has zero iota of input on this matter.”

Viktor abruptly gets up from his seat and turns at his heels, heading for the door. The guards standing by the door look apprehensive but Yakov has not said anything so they do nothing.

Before he crosses the threshold, he turns his head to say over his shoulder, “I know you must have plans to put Yuuri under surveillance at his school. I helpfully suggest you pull it out or else.”

Yakov’s temper flares up instantly. “Are you threatening me!?”

Viktor was unintimidated, impassively gazing at his foster father and says in a cold tone, “I said it was a suggestion, didn’t I?”

 

\--

 

Viktor returned home much later than he would have liked that night. After their little squabble, Yakov seemed to have taken the whole ‘let me do what I want so as long as I work for you’ thing to heart the most as he decided to put Viktor through several, almost mundane tasks throughout the whole day, possibly as punishment or to keep him absolutely busy.

Maybe both, Viktor thought. He’ll never really know with Yakov.

He trained the junior agents yet again with their hand-to-hand combat training and had to deal with the walking ball of hormonal rage that was Yuri Plisetsky (and forty other junior agents), with him constantly demanding rematches and failing to even disarm Viktor for the one hour they had spent sparring against just one another.

As a result, there were a lot of broken wrists and injured fingers from the other junior trainees who had to deal with him when it was their turn to spar.

Then there was training the rookie senior field agents, which were the ranks after someone graduated from junior agents like Plisetsky. They were easier to deal with. They know they’re capable of being a senior agent much like what Viktor was—the only thing they lacked was experience and skills that could even be at the same level as a veteran like him and Chris and they were leagues away from achieving that.

Overall, it wasn’t the worst day on the job but he was still back later at home than he would have liked. Makkachin hated being cooped up that Viktor had to comply with a nightly stroll around Chelsea just to pacify his precious poodle’s restlessness.

When he finally grew tired, it was already ten minutes past ten when he arrived back at his penthouse. For a brief moment, he imagined Yuuri by the kitchen, cooking up a monstrously good dinner but he was quickly reminded by the deafening silence of the room that he was all alone and Yuuri was miles away from him, in his dorm room with Phichit and probably overlooking a mountain of homework.

Viktor opts for a light dinner and settles on the lounge chair. Makkachin settles on top of his legs and curls up comfortably while Viktor contemplates on what he should do. He had his phone in his hands but he has mixed feelings over what he should do; if he should text or call Yuuri or maybe he shouldn’t disturb him tonight and just invite Chris over instead?

He knew that his husband was away for two weeks too, on a business trip, and Chris is either having late night phone sex with his husband—

On second thought, Viktor thought as he laughs awkwardly to himself. He’d rather not bear witness to that himself as he knows just how… loud Chris can be.

Three words: his wedding night. As happy Viktor was with his best friend tying the knot, he draws the line at hearing him having incredibly loud raunchy sex with his new husband, even when he settled five doors down from the happy couple’s hotel suite.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and opens his messenger tab.

 

> **You [12:46 PM]:** ( ๑ ᴖ ᴈ ᴖ)ᴖ ᴑ ᴖ๑)
> 
> **You [10:21 PM]:** Yuuri~ Did you miss me?
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [10:24 PM]** : sry my dude but ur bf can’t com to the phone rn.
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [10:25 PM]** : [Image sent]
> 
>  

In the photo was Yuuri, back resting against the wall by his bed and dressed in oversized clothing, with his beige bateau-neck sweater falling off his shoulder on one side. His hair has been held back with a large headband and there was a look of concentration moulded on his face, with his brows furrowed and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

 

> **You [10:27 PM]:** Wow. So, is it safe to assume that this is Phichit?
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [10:29 PM]** : Yep. Hi again. Sry about Yuuri. He’s working on a marketing strategy for his mktg class and it’s going to be eating up his time for the next few weeks or so.
> 
>  

Viktor’s heart sank at the words. He surveys the photo again and sighed in resignation. Looks like meeting him next weekend wasn’t going to happen after all.

 

> **You [10:31 PM]:** Tell him good luck for me then.
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [10:32 PM]** : u got it, lovr boi
> 
>  

He sets down his phone on his lap after that and nestles back against the pillows he stacked behind his back, staring at the high ceiling in silence. He feels Makkachin move and hears him whine and straightens up to find him looking at him, almost with a sad puppy eyed look to him.

“Sorry, Makka.” Viktor coos, scratching the back of his ear to placate him. “Looks like Yuuri won’t be here until further notice.”

His phone suddenly rings, which startles him enough that his legs jerked and his phone nearly crashed to the floor. He manages to save it through quick reflexes and glances over at the phone screen. His shoulders sag when he sees Chris’s face and name staring back at him. He accepts the call anyways.

“Hey, did you receive the details for our new assignment?” Chris asks immediately.

Viktor sighs. “I haven’t checked my computer yet. Is it in the country or overseas?”

Chris pauses on the other line before he replies, “Overseas. Quite far, actually.”

Viktor groans. He should have guessed as much. The only silver lining he could see from this is that at least he’ll be doing something in the next week or so (or however long this operation will take, whatever it is), while Yuuri also does his thing on his side. Hopefully, by the time they’re finished with this, they’ll have time for each other again.

“Where are we going?” He asks, gently pulling his legs from under Makkachin and headed for his office while he listens to Chris’s reply.

“Philippines,” Chris answers promptly before jokingly saying, “You know, Luca and I thought of going here for our honeymoon.”

“Philippines, huh.” Viktor mutters as he enters his office space. It was a normal looking office, with the wall behind the glass-surfaced desk being lined with bookshelves, though it was sparsely decorated in comparison to his personal library.

“I’ll call you in a bit, when we’re in a safer line.” Viktor says business-like before clicking the call off. He taps at the circular keyhole with his index finger and feels the slide of the chrome against his finger tip and presses at the keyhole again, touching the glass-like material of the biometric scanner hidden in that compartment.

In the silence of the room, he can hear a faint metallic click and the drawer slides open to reveal… an empty drawer.

Well, at least in the eyes of the ignorant. He reaches for the underside within the drawer and retrieves a small remote, encased in a metallic case and glued to the roof of the drawer with powerful magnets. The remote itself was small and practically nondescript since the screen was blank.

He presses his thumb on the centre of the device and it reads his fingerprint yet again. Then, robotic voice from the small device identifies him as [ **Ice King** ] and grants him entrance.

To his left, the centremost bookshelf lets out a mechanical hiss and swings open slightly. He takes the remote with him and enters through the gap and presses the button again to close the bookshelf behind him.

The room could be mistaken for a typical panic room though no one will be able to find emergency food rations, medical kits and bunk beds. It was a spacious enough room, with white, steel-reinforced walls and grey, granite flooring. One wall was lined with CCTV monitors, each showing a different part of the penthouse for security measures. Off to the corner was his computer unit, which was optimized to rival that of Emil’s though Viktor could never really get to his level on his own. The wall adjacent to it was dominated by a large, 98 inch LCD touch-screen monitor, currently tuned into the last case they worked on in Buenos Aires.

The rest of the room walls were lined with shelves that housed his firearms and other weaponry. His armoury was absurd in comparison to other veteran agents’ like Chris. It wasn’t enough to arm an entire brigade but a company wouldn’t be complaining.

He heads over to the wall-mounted monitor and proceeds to call Chris through there with one of the programs that Emil had developed to make untraceable and unlogged communication possible between other agents. Chris picks up a few seconds later, his form comfortably nestled in his office chair. He was dressed in a dressing gown with his cat nestled comfortably on his lap, looking like a comical Bond villain, really.

“You seem resigned,” Chris quips casually. “I assume Yuuri won’t be able to make it this weekend?”

“No,” Viktor answers. “Phichit told me that he has to make a business strategy for one of his classes. It’ll apparently eat up his time until further notice.”

“Huh,” Chris says, raising an eyebrow. “I would have thought that IQ of his would have made it easier…”

Viktor chuckles. “I don’t think that’s how IQs work, Chris. Hell, it really doesn’t work like that,” He clears his throat before continuing, “But we aren’t here to discuss that. What’s the assignment?”

Chris sends him a file which Viktor opens and maximizes on the big monitor. A picture of a man who looked to be in in his late forties appears on screen, with greying blonde hair and wrinkles around his forehead and the corners of his eyes. Viktor touches the screen to scroll down the page to look at his personal details.

“His name is Peter Langley. He’s 48 years old, and a twice-divorced though he doesn’t have joint custody of either of his children,” Chris begins to read off. “He cheated his business partners off their share of the profit and had escaped to the Philippines with approximately twenty-five million dollars. That's about more than one billion in Philippine pesos.”

Viktor lets out a low whistle. “Where is he right now?”

“He’s currently living in the nicer parts of Makati. He has a home in… forgive me for butchering this but _Ayala Alabang_ Village but he has an apartment too when he’s had one too many and has his latest fling wrapped up in his grubby little finger.” Chris reads of in a monotonous tone. “Not a shred of anything interesting with this guy.”

“You say it as if we’re reading a gossip magazine,” Viktor points out as he idly reads through other details. When he reaches his medical history, he has to supress a laugh. “It says here he has a severe peanut allergy.”

“Oh great,” Chris laughs. “Let’s bake him some brownies and put peanuts in that and let it do our job for us.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad,” Viktor jokes but then continues to prattle on with the target’s details. “He also had two bodyguards. One is a master and instructor of Silat and another is a former police officer and a Tae-Kwon-Do black belt. They never leave his side, unless he tells them to leave.”

Chris chuckles, scratching his cat’s chin as he spoke, “You talk as if they’re going to be a threat.”

“They’ll be annoying,” Viktor points out. “But not a threat. This kind of assignment will take some time, though. Three days at best…”

“They’re giving us a week to do it,” Chris says casually. “It seems kind of an insult, really. It’s like they think we can’t do it sooner than a week will pass.”

Viktor smirks. “Well, we’ll just have to prove them wrong, don’t we?” he retorts. “When do we leave?”

“A flight’s been booked for early morning at five fifteen. Travel light, but I know you can’t help yourself but just so you know, we’re flying business.”

Viktor decides to ignore the earlier quip and nod in assent. “What about accommodations?”

“We have a base of operations in the city so we won’t have trouble with firearms and whatnot,” Chris explains. “Oh, and we’re not allowed to have any civilian casualties, which includes the bodyguards.”

Viktor nods in agreement. After sorting out a meeting time for later in the early morning the next day, Viktor exited the conference call after bidding Chris goodnight and left the room and is greeted by Makkachin outside the door from his office.

“I wish I could take you with me, Makkachin.” Viktor coos as he hugs his poodle and leads him upstairs so he could pack. By the time he was done, Makkachin had happily settled on the spot on the side of the bed that Yuuri occupied previously while Viktor, dressed down into his usual bed attire of absolutely nothing, settles underneath the sheets while setting up an alarm on his phone.

Just as he was about to go to sleep, his phone beeps with a text message. Wondering who could it be, he opens it up and his eyes widen to see that it was Yuuri.

 

> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [10:32 PM]:** u got it, lovr boi
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [11:38 PM]:** Hey, sorry about that. I did not grant Phichit permission to use my phone.
> 
> **You [11:39 PM]:** It’s really okay. He says you’re busy, though.
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [11:40 PM]:** I am but I do need sleep and I’m about to go to sleep right now. I’m not disturbing you, am I?
> 
> **You [11:41 PM]:** Never, though I’m about to go to sleep as well.
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [11:43 PM]:** I see.
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [11:45 PM]:** If it’s any consolation, I was looking forward to seeing you again for the weekend. I’m sorry that I can’t make it after all.
> 
> **You [11:46 PM]:** We can always meet up next week. J You don’t need to apologize, Yuuri so please don’t.
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [11:47 PM]:** If you say so. I’ll try to make it next week, though but I have to warn you that I won’t have my phone with me until this assignment is over.
> 
> **You [11:49 PM]:** I assume you do this every time you have a major project?
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [11:50 PM]:** Of course. Why do you think I have such high grades? lol
> 
> **You [11:52 PM]:** I understand. I’ll miss you though L
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [11:53 PM]:** (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [11:55 PM]:** I’ll make it up you. I promise that you’ll see me next week.
> 
>  

Viktor’s heart practically jumped out of his chest at the promise, hope happily bubbling in his chest. He feels his mouth form an excited grin and his fingers hastily type out as many hearts as he could.

 

> **You [11:56 PM]:** ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> **You [11:57 PM]:** ( ๑ ᴖ ᴈ ᴖ)ᴖ ᴑ ᴖ๑)
> 
> **You [11:58 PM]:** I can’t wait!!!! o(≧∇≦o) ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [11:59 PM]:** Goodnight. J
> 
> **You [12:01 AM]:** Sweet dreams, Сахарок.
> 
> **Yuuri ♥ ♥ ♥ [12:03 AM]:** You too. ♥
> 
> **You [12:04 AM]: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥**

 

He doesn’t hear another reply from Yuuri after his last text but he doesn’t mind. Makkachin stirs beside him, as if sensing Viktor’s excitement and Viktor wraps his arms around his poodle.

“I can’t wait for next week, Makkachin. We’ll get to see Yuuri again.” Viktor says softly. Makkachin barks and wags his tail, reflecting Viktor’s current emotions.

He finds it hard to sleep after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation: 
> 
> 亲爱的 - Chinese. It means Darling.  
> Лапушка - Russian. It means Sweetheart. 
> 
> \--
> 
> For updates, feel free to check my [Tumblr.](https://meixiu-writes.tumblr.com/)


	6. Close Calls [Part One]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which their respective superiors are a bunch of assholes who try to test their best agents' patience just one more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 
> 
> 1\. There is an obvious inaccuracy with the ETA from JFK, New York to Manila, Philippines. Google says that the flight is about eighteen hours long, not accounting for delays and such. If YK and PC’s departure from JFK was at around 3:30 in the early morning, they would have arrived eighteen hours later in Manila the next day at 12:30 AM, (accounting for the fact that the Philippines is 12 hours ahead of time from NYC). In the fic, however, they arrive at around 8 in the morning, which is how the but if you will, please just let the willing suspension of disbelief let you believe that there were that many delays with their flight for them to arrive seven and a half hours late.
> 
> 2\. Traditional Filipino dwellings called Nipa huts are typically wooden houses that are on stilts. They are surprisingly sturdy and are customizable and they are stereotyped to typically be very outdated, with no modern furnishings and what not. That’s not the case for some, not all, nipa houses in the Philippines as some are equipped with cable TV, WiFi, etc. You just won’t find it in the boonies, where most of these houses are located, because of how far some resources are.
> 
> 3\. The Philippine Anti-Drug War was initiated by the current president of the Philippines, Rodrigo Duterte, in an effort to exterminate drug usage within the country. I'm not putting it into the fic as a focal point, of course, but it is mentioned to give the characters the idea of the situation within the country. 
> 
> 4.. Eros and Philia are examples of love, with Eros being sexual desire and Philia being brotherly love.  
> \- Yuuri is named after Eros for his style of honey-trapping his targets.  
> \- Phichit is named after Philia for his friendly nature and because of his relationship with his partner, Yuuri. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Without further ado, Here is, Chapter Six of Assassin's Tango: Close Calls [Part One] 
> 
> \--

“I didn’t say that you could reply to him if he ever texted my phone,” Yuuri says sternly as he turned off his phone and set it aside beside him. He narrows his eyes at Phichit, who merely shrugs and seemingly fighting a grin on his face.

“Would you have replied to him?” He asks, getting up from his bed to go to the door, proceeding to lock it before turning to go to his wardrobe.

“I—“ Yuuri began but then thought about it for a moment before finally answering, “Yes. I would have.”

Phichit sniggers. “At least I came up with a nice excuse for you,” He says in a teasing tone. “Knowing you, you can’t make up a lie on the spot, unless you already planned it ahead.”

“Whatever,” Yuuri grumbles petulantly, getting up from his bed to open his closet as well. Then, he asks in perfect Thai, “ _Enough dilly-dallying. We have an assignment, right? When do we depart?_ ”

“ _We have a three-thirty flight later,_ ” Phichit answers him while he busies himself with taking folded clothes from his drawer to set aside on his bed. “ _I’ve been informed that we’ll be travelling on a private plane instead of coach. There were no explanations as to why.”_

That seemed odd, thought Yuuri but didn’t mention it. “ _What’s our excuse for leaving school?_ ”

“ _Madonna is handling that for us so we don’t have to worry_ ,” Phichit explains easily, taking out two hoodies and seemed to be deliberating on which one to take.

Madonna was Yuuko’s code name. For once, it wasn’t Phichit who came up with it alongside Guang-Hong and another operative named Kenjirou Minami but instead, it was Yuuri. It wasn’t because she had a love for Madonna or anything, really but more so the fact that she used to be called the Madonna of Ice Castle, as she was the best female figure skater in their hometown rink. 

“ _C’mon, our ride will be here in an hour,”_ He adds, tossing the red hoodie to the pile of clothes on his bed and returning the other back into the coat rack.

Yuuri nods and hastily stuffs his bag with clothes and other travelling essentials. The rest of the hour passed by in a blur as he and Phichit continuously make sure their cover isn’t blown and every nook and cranny was guaranteed to not leave a single trace of their double life to any tenacious people who think it might be fun to sneak into his and Phichit’s bedroom.

Yuuko was waiting for them downstairs in the darkness of the building’s foyer, dressed in her night attire and with phone in hand.

“Take the usual exit over the fence and Seung-Gil will be outside, waiting in a black car,” she says in a low voice. “Security is making their rounds around the campus so you two better be careful and be mindful of the cameras.”

It wasn’t difficult to go through their normal route, at least, not as much as Yuuko makes it out to be. It was only through perfect timing, the knowledge of the best hiding spots and through the other party’s inattentiveness that they managed to toss their things over the fence and were out of campus grounds with not so much as a flashlight to their face.

Yuuri scans the immediate area and spots a familiar figure standing a few ways away, leaning against a sleek black car, dressed completely in an all-black tracksuit and looking straight out of a sports attire catalogue.

Seung-Gil Lee was a Korean man, about the same age as Yuuri and Phichit, but looked a lot older because of his mature features, which includes the almost constant unamused look on his face. That, or a blank, impassive look that could make him the best man to play a high-stakes round of poker. He had jet black hair, which he had hidden for the most part underneath a knitted beanie, slightly-narrowed, upturned piercing grey eyes and such a pale complexion that standing in the dark almost made his skin luminescent.

He acknowledges the two with a nod as he spots them going over to him and gets in the driver’s seat of the car. Yuuri settles in the back seat while Phichit rides shotgun.

“Hey, Seung-Gil,” Phichit greets genially. The Korean man merely nods and turns the car in the ignition, starting the car and moving out of his parking spot to drive down the empty lane. “How’s school?”

“It’s fine. I’m graduating this May.” Seung-Gil deadpans, effectively keeping his eyes on the road. Seung-Gil was a computer science major at Yale University, with goals of becoming an Operations Research Analyst for the organization. Phichit always said that no job was better for Seung-Gil than that; almost like the job was made for him, really.

Phichit looks like he was about to say something, changed his mind and then glanced over at Yuuri who was quietly sitting in the back of the car, staring out at the darkened scenery outside the tinted windows.

“Yuuri, you say something too.” Phichit says.

Yuuri gives him an unamused look. “I have about as much people skills as you have impulse control.” He snarks and both could have sworn that they saw Seung-Gil crack the briefest of smiles and maybe hear the ghost of a snort though they wouldn’t be pointing it out.

“Mean!” Phichit exclaims, pouting but then casually decides to discard the notion as if Yuuri said nothing at all. “What about Otabek?”

Otabek Altin was Seung-Gil’s partner who was also stationed at Yale University but in a different program, specifically biochemical engineering. He was a Kazakhstani man, a year younger than Seung-Gil but like most operatives, had a good head on his shoulders and acted older than his age. It’s almost funny, really, how two of the most stoic and youngest senior operatives were paired together. It was funny to see them communicate solely on grunts and curt nods and yet work so well together despite it all.

“That’s classified,” Seung-Gil replies simply, which is basically saying he’s on an assignment, possibly out of the country. It was rare for Yuuri to hear that partnered agents went on separate missions as since he was commissioned, Yuuri and Phichit have never gone on a mission without each other, even if only one of them was doing the brunt of the work than the other, who is only there for backup, if needed.

Their current mission was no exception to that.

“God,” Phichit begins in a grumble. “If you, Yuuri and Otabek were in the same room, you three will definitely be the life of the party,”

Seung-Gil sighs but doesn’t say anything in response. Yuuri can only offer Phichit a half-amused smile before the turns his attention back to the scenery.

They arrived at JFK airport in record time. Seung-Gil doesn’t see them off at the departure area as he only nods them off from his seat in the car before he drives away and out of the premises.

The private jet they were taking was a Bombardier Challenger 300 that was privately owned by the organization. The question of why they were taking a private jet instead of riding coach was still in the back of Yuuri’s mind but he decided not to vocalize it in favour of trying to settle in.

He wondered very briefly if Viktor ever rode in any of these kinds of things, maybe even having the luxury of having one. With his pockets being that deep (though Yuuri doesn’t really know just _how_ deep it goes), he can only imagine.

When they finally settled in their seats, with Phichit sitting on seat across the stow table from Yuuri, they delved into idle talk, mostly concerning school. Despite this whole university student be essentially just an elaborate façade, they took their studies surprisingly seriously; Yuuri more so because of his perfectionism. 

When it was time for their departure, they hear the familiar accented voice of another co-worker of theirs, this time the older and veteran senior field operative named Cao Bin, speaking in the intercom in his thick, Chinese-accented English. He greets the two of them and informs them of the usual Captain-of-the-plane spiel.

Once they were on the air and at cruising altitude, they did their best to go to sleep, as they had eighteen hours of flying time ahead of them to endure through.

 

\--

 

Some hours later, they woke up to the sounds of Cao Bin informing them that they will be arriving at the country’s national airport in an hour, which meant that they’ve already crossed the International Date Line but it was still dark out when he peered out of the windows. Yuuri does the mental math and concludes that if their flight time was approximately eighteen hours, then they will be arriving in the Ninoy Aquino International Airport at some time past twelve in the morning.

Phichit yawns and stretches on the seat opposite him, blinking blearily at the scenery outside. Yuuri fastens his seatbelt and Phichit mimics him, all the while keeping his eyes glued to the darkened scenery outside. Sometime later, they can finally see lights flickering like fairy lights down below.

“We haven’t been here in years,” Phichit notes casually, his eyes glazing over, looking at the islands down below reminiscently. Yuuri hums in assent but doesn’t say anything in reply, mostly because he doesn’t really have much to say in the matter.

They have been to the Philippines before, back when they were no more than lost, orphaned teenagers. They were there for training purposes in both body and mind, honing their abilities amidst the harsh conditions of the tropical remote island that they had settled in as far away from the natives and the rest of civilization as possible. There weren’t that many fond memories to speak of that Yuuri could remember but the one saving grace he did back then was it was where he first met Phichit.

Of course, their meeting wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t there for a relaxing summer vacation, after all. They didn’t meet at the sandy shores of the beach during some outdoor beach party whilst overlooking the dusty orange and pink sunset in the horizon or whatever but instead in a facility built into the mountains and concealed through natural foliage and nearby forestry, where everything was monochrome, dull and cold.

It was during a sparring match between other rookie junior trainees and Yuuri’s goals at that time wasn’t to make friends but just to survive the training course but he just so happened to have been matched with Phichit.

They were evenly matched in terms of skills, if those pathetic attempts at kicking and blocking could even be classified _as_ skills, at least. In hindsight, they might have looked like they were rough-housing with one another, like a bunch of punk teenagers thinking like they’re tough when they’re actually not.

Yuuri’s natural grace and better grasp at balance from ballet and his athleticism from his days as a competitive figure skater gave him just the barest hint of an advantage above his opponent that he won the overall match, when he attempted to kick Phichit down with a blow to the side of the head.

Straight after that, Phichit tried to talk to him but a combination of natural reticence, lack of trust and Yuuri’s general moodiness made him… less than savoury company. He didn’t lash out at Phichit (Yuuri was never one to really raise his voice) but he did remember coldly turning away from him as he relentlessly try to make conversation.

Yuuri’s eyes wander over to his now best friend and partner and realize just how far they’ve come from that initial, disastrous meeting.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Phichit asks, his dark eyes alight with curiousity.

Yuuri shrugs his shoulders. “I just remembered the first time we met.”

Phichit sniggers and then smirks at Yuuri’s way. “Oh, _darling_ ,” He drawls, purposefully putting emphasis at the first syllable of the word. “Are you getting reminiscent of our wonderful, magical, romantic meeting?”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “Yes,” he drawls sardonically. “How could I forget the way you dazzlingly fell flat on your ass after my admittedly weak attempt at a roundhouse kick? I’m glad to know you’ve fallen for me already a long time ago.”

“Haha,” Phichit retorts dryly, his lips forming a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “How many weeks did you come up with that?”

“Just atop my head just then,” Yuuri inform him lightly. “Maybe I’m getting better at this.”

“Yeah,” Phichit says doubtfully. “You wish.”

When they finally land, Yuuri unbuckles his seatbelt and gets to his feet, stretching his limbs and arching his back to ease the stiffness out. Phichit rolls his joints and gets the crick from his neck, groaning as he did so.

Cao Bin emerges from the cockpit, dressed in what could typically be consider to be a pilot’s uniform. He was an older man in comparison to Yuuri and Phichit as he was in his mid to late thirties and wore thick, black rimmed glasses over his narrowed grey eyes.

Yuuri immediately stands at attention, with Phichit following after him. Cao walks towards them, holding what seemed to be a piece of paper in his hand, as well as a bulky looking white envelope. He hands said the small piece of paper to Phichit, who unrolls it and examines that contents. Yuuri is handed the loaded envelope and peers inside to see Philippine peso bills. Yuuri looks over Phichit’s shoulder to look at what was scribbled on it, finding a phone number scribbled on the paper in Mandarin Chinese.

Cao informs them that they’ll be able to contact the agent who will take them to their base location for the operation. They won’t be available until early morning, as early as five at least, so they’ll have to kill some time on their own outside of the airport, as they are trained never to linger for too long in establishments that could potentially capture any surveillance footage of them. The money will be their funds for their miscellaneous needs that isn’t provided at base location, like cab fares and whatnot.  

Yuuri can’t help but raise his eyebrow but he schools his expression into a more neutral one before Cao notices. He glances at the thickness of the wad of money and finds it too absurd for a few days. Instead, he quietly follows Phichit’s lead as he takes out his bags and marches out of the plane, bidding Cao a neutral-toned goodbye.

 

~~\--~~

 

After a quick Google search, they managed to find a 24-hour restaurant near the airport and settle in one of the booths. With their heavy luggage and foreign appearances, they looked just like the other haggard-looking tourists and hungry night owls. They weren’t being stared at as much as Yuuri had anticipated, since the place seemed to be pack full of foreigners of varying nationalities that his and Phichit’s presence might not be as interesting to look at anymore.

They are handed a menu by a relatively perky young woman who looked like she was fighting sleep as best as she could. After a quick perusal, Yuuri orders something that the waitress assures him was light and easy on the stomach, since the menu was quite local and he doesn’t think he can stomach greasy food at one in the morning.

Phichit, on the other hand, was quite excited to eat as much of the local food as possible since it has been a while since they’ve eaten it so he orders three plates of food for himself, one being enough for at least one meal. Even the waitress looked surprised but she didn’t question him, of course.

It must be nice, thought Yuuri, to have a metabolism like a jet engine.

When their food arrives, Yuuri eats his _arroz caldo_ silently, occasionally stopping to answer something that Phichit was asking him. They had approximately five to six hours to kill so Phichit was suggesting other places they can go to that might be open like 24-hour cinemas or they could stay at a hostel.

In the end, they settle for the cinema. The film they chose (with their choice being solely based on how interesting the film’s promotional poster) was in Filipino and Yuuri for the life of him can barely understand half of what the actors and actresses were saying. Phichit, on the other hand—with his natural talent in learning and speaking other languages—was adept at speaking in Filipino so he understood everything just fine and was more riveted to the cliché plotline than Yuuri was, even shedding a tear or two at the dramatic parts like every other movie goer would (who weren’t in the same cinema as them since it was only 2 in the morning).

By the time it was finished, they watched another, this time being something they both can actually understand since it was in English but the general plotline was shit and the characters were so obnoxious that it wasn’t easy to sit through nearly two hours of it.

“…I think I just lost some brain cells just from that much exposure to stupidity.” Phichit grumbles as they exit the cinema room.

“I want my money back…” Yuuri mumbles under his breath, pulling out his phone to check the time. He hates all this waiting time. Surely, if the person who was supposed to pick them up knew that they were coming, wouldn’t they have been briefed on their itinerary?

It was close to five at least, thought Yuuri.

Phichit notices his agitation. “I’ll call them to see if they’re up. If they’re not… then we can kill some more time watching another movie…”

Yuuri looks at him dubiously. “Like I’d want to sacrifice my sanity for another movie with some inane, contrived plot and moronic characters,” Yuuri grumbles as he types in the number he had memorized earlier and presses the burner phone against his ear. Someone picks up after three rings. They sound a bit groggy at first, maybe even annoyed, but he seemed to recognize Yuuri that he suddenly sounded more alert when Yuuri mentioned that they needed to be picked up.

Soon, they got a text halfway into more decent film playing on the silver screen, saying that they were parked outside. Their ride was a simple black sedan and their driver was a non-descript lackey of the organization who was dressed differently from their standard suit and into boring, plain clothes to blend in with the locals better. The car itself had lost its polish, Yuuri notes; not at all like Viktor’s obviously well-managed luxury vehicles, but it seemed like a perfectly functional vehicle.

Phichit is having a conversation with the driver in Filipino once again. They do it mostly for show, as there were already people roaming the streets, even if it was as early as now. With Phichit's dark skin, he blends in easily with the Filipino natives. Once all was said and done, Phichit and Yuuri load their things in the trunk of the car. 

" _Pasensya na po, sir. Pinahintay ko po kayo._ " The agent says, making his way to the driver's side of the car. From his tone, he sounds apologetic.

" _Walang anoman. Sige na, umalis na tayo._ " Phichit replies smoothly, going towards the front passenger's seat. Yuuri wordlessly opens the back door and shuts it beside him, settling back and letting out a soft sigh. He looks around the car interior, which smells vaguely of cigarette smoke and incredibly potent citrus air freshener, before his gaze settles on the things that were placed in the backseat. 

Their escort seems to have noticed his gaze. " _Ah, yung sobre at mapa na nasa likod. Para sa iyong dalawa yun."_ The man mentions, pointing to a manila envelope and rolled up map that on the seat next to Yuuri's. 

"He says that the envelope and the map are for us." Phichit translates for him. 

"I got it," Yuuri says. Well, he can understand the words 'envelope' and 'map' at least. 

Yuuri was left to inspect the contents of the aforementioned manila envelope, inside of which contained details of the current target. Yuuri didn’t skim through the surprisingly thick folder just yet, opting to read it when they get to their base and not even bothering to listen to Phichit and the conversation he was having with their driver, which has since switched back to English. The agent exhibited a strong Filipino accent but despite that, Phichit seemed to understand him just tine. 

The drive was maybe an hour or so and Yuuri notes the distance. He remembers landmarks as he passes them, trying to get a good idea of the route they'll be taking to and from the base location. Their temporary settlement turned out to be a rest house, not quite within the city limits but it was as secluded as necessary. It was made to look like an incredibly traditional house, complete with _nipa_ roofing, wooden floors, walls and furnishings. When Yuuri stepped inside, he suddenly felt like he was back home; with their woven straw tatami mats, bamboo and paper walls and wooden floors, even though none of those were really present in their current dwelling.

The only difference was that a Japanese dwelling looks empty as they only take things out of storage cabinets when necessary and this kind of home was cluttered but homey.

The house may have looked rustic, but the house (like many others) goes against the stereotypes of traditional Filipino dwellings. The entire house was wired with electricity, internet access and clean running water. The location itself was cooler than the temperature within the city limits, due to the shade provided by the big trees and the house was practically hidden behind tall shrubbery. 

Another difference was hidden from plain view, hidden underground and only accessible through a trap door that looked indistinguishable from the lines and gaps on the floor.

The three of them brought all of their things inside, settling their bags on any close elevated surface before they were briefed as to where their food supplies were at, as well as the items they might need for the assignment they were about to do. They were then told that they needed to navigate to places on their own with local transportation, which was obvious enough as they were under the guise of tourists and are supposed to do what tourists do to not look suspicious amongst the million others populating the city. After all was said and done, their driver made himself scarce and left them to their own devices.

Phichit settled on one of the armchairs and lent back as he tried to relax. “We have two weeks to do this since they think it won’t be easy.”

Yuuri glances at him with one raised eyebrow. “Is that what they’re saying now?” Yuuri asks dubiously, crossing his arms over his chest and lent back against a wooden pillar. “And here I was under the impression that they’re testing me to see if I can still do the job done.”

He thought it was over—this doubt over his abilities and the tests he’ll have to undergo to prove himself— after his last assignment prior last week but he had to slap himself internally for being optimistic. Of course they’ll take it another step, and this time make it a big leap by actually making him go across the seas as far away from Viktor as possible to see if his personal feelings would affect his work ethic.

He’s not completely surprised to realize why they had so many agents who knew Yuuri personally and vice versa to escort him to places. Seung-Gil, Cao Bin... Hell, they can probably wring out Phichit for answers if they wanted to really know what Yuuri's disposition was like while he was currently on duty. 

Well, Yuuri thought darkly, he’ll prove them wrong. He’ll do his job right. He’ll prove them wrong time and time again if he has to.

Phichit didn’t say anything to Yuuri’s remark, merely opting to get back on his feet and tell Yuuri that they need settle their things and get ready for their first expedition to scope out the target tomorrow, which Yuuri nods in agreement to.

 

\--

 

Once all of their things were settled and night had truly set, Yuuri decided to cook their dinner while Phichit looked over at the target’s profile. He reads off the target’s details while Yuuri was cutting up meat, potatoes and carrots for a simple cream stew.

“Peter Langley. He’s 48 years old, and a twice-divorcee with two daughters from two different wives. He does not have shared custody with any of his children,” Phichit drawls, like he’s reading off an incredibly mundane list (because he was). “He cheated out his business partners from their share of the profit in the millions, and is currently blowing it off in casinos and on desperate single people. He likes walks on the beach and puppies.”

Yuuri gives him an unimpressed look. “You’re not reading his Tinder profile. Do it right.”

“Fine,” Phichit sighs. He continues to read the rest of the contents, muttering the uninteresting bits until he reaches the man’s medical history. Phichit lets out a low whistle as he scans the page before relaying it to Yuuri. “He’s had a gastric bypass surgery and apparently weighed one-hundred thirteen kilograms prior about a few months ago though he’s down to seventy-two now. He has a peanut and seafood allergy. It says he breaks out into hives and bloats when he has seafood but his peanut allergy is a lot more severe.”

“How severe?”

Phichit hums contemplatively before saying, “Like, he’ll need to go to the hospital if he even has a Reese’s peanut butter cup down his throat.”

Yuuri hums in assent. He takes a pot from a selection and sets it over the stove. “Continue.”

Phichit looks at the document again. “He currently has two bodyguards employed. One is a former police officer with a black belt in Tae-Kwon-Do and another is a Silat master and instructor. He has two residences, one in Muntinlupa and another in Makati though he usually spends his time at his Makati apartment if he has some desperate woman to take home.”

Yuuri nodded, already formulating a plan in his head. He absorbed himself into the task while he was cooking, still mulling it over. Phichit draped himself over Yuuri’s back and rests his head over his shoulder, his hunger-induced whining muffled against Yuuri’s shirt. Yuuri allows himself to smile and pats Phichit on the head with his free hand affectionately before telling him that food will be ready in fifteen minutes and he might as well be productive and do something while he waits.

Phichit opts to go on his Instagram instead; a task which he is immediately absorbed in that he barely hears Yuuri telling him that the food was ready.

“Your boyfriend sure is close with this Christophe guy.” Phichit notes. “What does G mean? Oh! Giacometti. Hm, it seems like he’s married.”

“That’s his best friend.” Yuuri answers as he sets down the plates on the wooden table. “What are they doing?”

“This is from a week ago.” Phichit points out before continuing. “I looks like they’re having a shopping spree at Barney’s.” Phichit says, sounding unsure. A few taps on his phone and he suddenly exclaims, “Oh! Yeah, they are. Christophe took a video of Viktor looking through dress shirts. I don’t know if he’s buying one for himself or for you…” After a pause, he grins up at Yuuri. “No wait, he’s buying them for you. It’s too small for his broad shoulders.”

It must be that time when Viktor bought him those new clothes, Yuuri notes internally. “I know all of your sugar daddy jokes by now so you better save your breath,” Yuuri warns as he scoops servings into two bowls. “And don’t like any of his things.”

“Aw, why not?” Phichit whines.

“Maybe because you made the excuse that I’m unavailable because of a mountain of school work? He told us he went to university; he knows how tough senior year can be.”

“Well,” Phichit began, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “That’s _your_ excuse, mi hombre. Last I recalled, I am a liberal arts major, not business administration. I don’t have any obligations to lie to anyone. Besides, I will always make time for Instagram, even in the midst of a make-believe scenario.”

Yuuri merely sighs and settles down on the dining chair, gesturing Phichit to his food. Phichit gets to his feet and settles on the chair on the opposite side of Yuuri, picking up his spoon and grins once he tastes the stew. Yuuri stops him from taking a photo due to the geo-tagging and only managed to appease him when he tells Phichit that he’ll make this again in their dormitory kitchen once they get back home.

Later that night, they turned off all the lights on the main floor, shut all the windows and points of entrance and exits throughout the whole house and then retreated to the basement bunker. It was a stark difference from the house upstairs; whereas everything upstairs was rustic and homey, the bunker was cold, monochromatic and all concrete.

It was clear that they weren’t the first people to ever use it; this was base location for any operatives within their organization who was working within the area. There were two desktop units that were already set up on the far side of the wall and there were hidden panels that lined the walls; the smaller ones hiding the security measures while the bigger panels hid weaponry, explosives, and etc.

“Okay, let’s work out a basic plan for now.” Phichit said as he sets the manila folder on the surface of an empty table, taking out the map of Manila and sets it on the table. There were notes taped at every marked area, detailing as to what each place signified.

“That lackey scoped out Mr. Langley ahead of us and has figured out his playground, or at least the general gist of his routine,” Phichit explains to Yuuri.

He presses his index finger on one of the marked areas. “He spends most of his time at his condo if he has a lady friend. If not, he’ll be at his mansion in _Muntinlupa_. But at night, he circles around the best bars and dance clubs looking for someone to take back to his place or he goes gambling. He also goes to look for whores in the red light district, usually rotating around _P. Burgos_ in _Makati, Malete and Ermita_.” He taps at several locations on the map, all of which were some distances away that travelling on foot wasn’t ideal.

“He always has his two bodyguards with him so it’ll be hard to breech his entourage,” Phichit adds with a tone of finality.

“Then we’ll go for the no-contact approach.” Yuuri says simply. They did this to targets that were particularly difficult to approach, like ones with bodyguards who followed their master like lost puppies, and the man they were dealing with was clearly interested only in loose women, therefore it would be implausible for them to gain his interest, regardless of Phichit’s insistence at Yuuri’s apparent ability to make people question their sexuality.

He doesn’t know the credibility of that statement so he never believes him when Phichit says so; he finds the whole idea laughable, really. 

Phichit doesn’t question him and agrees to the approach.

Yuuri continues to explain, “The only problem we have is timing, location and method then. His goons are easy enough to incapacitate but we aren’t allowed civilian casualties, so we’ll have to be mindful of our tactics when the time comes.”

“Then how do you suggest we eliminate the target?” Phichit asks him. "We know his weaknesses are loose women, good alcohol, and his allergies. I doubt even if I feed him my mom's recipe for Satay that he'd even eat it." 

Yuuri thinks about it. As much as he’d like to suggest another poisoning, as that was the easiest method considering how easy it would be to slip into the many drinks the man clearly consumes on a daily basis, he did not have the same resources he had in his personal arsenal as the one he had here. The option to use bladed weaponry was thrown out of the option list as they had already agreed upon no direct contact with the target and running around in bloody clothes in one of the most populated cities in the world is the worst idea ever imagined as late night activities were quite rampant and it would be wiser for the two of them to not interact with any locals.

“Would a gunshot be questioned so much in these parts?” Yuuri mutters, mostly to himself but the quiet of the room allowed for Phichit to hear him.

He sees Phichit shrug his shoulders and say casually, “There’s a war on drugs throughout the entire country so hearing a gunshot late at night isn’t seen out of place. All we need to do is plant some form of evidence on him and no one will look too much at his case.”

“Good. We’ll do that then. We’ll observe him for the next few days to get a closer look at his routine and find a window of opportunity to strike.” Phichit nods and says something about scoping out possible vantage points.

“I’ll contact Fleur that we have settled in,” Phichit says, with Fleur being the codename for Guang-Hong. Phichit’s reasoning for it was somewhat understandable once they had a good glimpse on what Guang-Hong Ji had looked like personally.

Guang-Hong was petite, almost delicate like a flower with childish features and a sweet, ingénue-like charm about him but beneath that fragile appearance is also a young man who knows how to know a lot of things—things that no one in their right minds would want to know; things that should remain hidden but he can have direct access to—as well as being quite a capable marksman, despite what his baby-face, narrowed shoulders and big, doe-eyes would suggest otherwise.

Yuuri nods and takes the items off the table and tucks them back into the manila folder, bringing it over to the firearms cabinet and tucks it in between two pistols for safe keeping before closing the panel and watches as the cover unfolds itself and moulds itself seamlessly back into the nondescript wall.

Yuuri heads back upstairs and adjusts his eyes to the darkness until he could navigate his way to the one bedroom that he and Phichit were to share. Once he found his way to his bag, Yuuri retrieves his personal phone and settles on the edge of the bed.

He checks the time and finds that it was eleven-twenty in the evening here. Yuuri does the mental math and realizes that due to the twelve-hour time difference, it was eleven-twenty in the day for Viktor. He was tempted to call him but Yuuri reconsiders it.

Viktor could be working, maybe in the middle of a boring meeting that he has to sit through because of his position, or he could be enjoying his time hanging out with Christophe, sipping expensive coffee at some trendy café on the Upper East Side or whatever. He could be doing a multitude of things that involve him being busy with his life and Yuuri would hate to interrupt him; in fear of becoming an inconvenience in the man’s daily activities.

Plus, there was his excuse again, reminding him that he promised himself to not speak to Viktor until after the mission was over. There was no guarantee that Guang-Hong, or more specifically, his superintendents, wouldn’t not know about him speaking to Viktor in the middle of an assignment.

He never had any issues like this before, he mused sullenly. Maybe this was what his superiors were expecting—for him to be swayed so much by these foreign emotions to prove that he doesn’t have his head in the right place. 

He promised himself that he’ll be able to see Viktor next week and he’s not going to compromise it by being impulsive, especially with the added risk of his superiors knowing. He sets his phone down and climbs into bed, pulling the blanket over his shoulder and curling up on his side and closing his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep. 

Phichit enters a few minutes later, his hair slightly damp and dressed in more appropriate nightly attire. “You seem depressed,” He says offhandedly.

“I’m not,” Yuuri mumbles back tiredly.

“I’ve checked around the premises. There aren’t any _insects_ lying about.”

Yuuri nods once, understanding the context of his emphasis. If Yuuri’s suspicions were correct and their senior managers were setting most of this operation up as another test for Yuuri and the state of his emotional wellbeing then planning listening devices and small cameras on every crevice would be a logical addition in their operation.

Should Yuuri stray away from his objectives or should his attention be driven back to thoughts on Viktor, then his superiors will use it against him, no matter how mundane the reasoning might have been, despite the fact that Yuuri was not the first and only person in the organization who was in a romantic relationship with someone outside of the workplace.

All this special attention on him has its reasons but it annoyed Yuuri either way.

“Even so,” Yuuri sighs. “I don’t want to compromise things. I want to finish this assignment without any screw-ups.”

“We will,” Phichit says reassuringly, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed and putting his hand on Yuuri’s hair, gently stroking it as if to placate him. It feels almost childish, notes Yuuri, but he finds comfort in the feeling.

But it was a fleeting gesture and Phichit pulls his hand away though Yuuri understands his actions. “We’ll finish this as soon as possible, alright?” He says in the same placating tone.

Yuuri hums instead of making a cohesive, verbal reply. He vaguely listens to Phichit settling down on the space beside him before he lets sleep take over.

 

\--

 

Yuuri was already awake before the crack of dawn. Phichit followed after five minutes of Yuuri coaxing him awake. They got dressed in relative silence, save for the rustling of their clothes and stifled yawns. They both don a set of exercise clothes, with Yuuri’s being completely black while Phichit opted for a red shirt to go with his grey jogging pants, then head outside to the back of the rest house.

The early morning atmosphere was a lot cooler than from when they arrived yesterday. It was still dark, in a sense that the sun wasn’t out, but they weren’t groping around blindly at the very least. They began to stretch, muttering the numbers under their breath. After fifteen minutes, they both got into form.

They were well-versed in most martial arts though they had to take note of their lithe frames and general lack of brute strength to be effective in their trade. Yuuri _had_ upper and lower body strength, despite his smaller stature, as well as flexibility and natural finesse, which came from background in figure skating and ballet. His forte includes those that utilizes his leg strength, leaving the hands as a means of defense or for grappling. His style of fighting had developed into something with structure and with proper form, like how he was taught, though Yuuri has long forgone the notion of using it only as a means of defense and utilizes the lethality in his movement than how most people view it as a combat sport.

Phichit, on the other hand, didn’t have body strength or much in the way of technique but he was agile and flexible. In most close combat scenarios, he uses his environment to seek out an advantage and fights pragmatically, rather like a street-fighting brawler. What he specialized in was the fast movement of his feet, blocking and dodging to make up for his lack of force and utilizes the strength of his opponents to gain an advantage.

Overall, a sparring match between them seemed to be balanced, with Yuuri edging him out slightly through better technique and what body strength that he had but Phichit could have easily knocked him down, had he executed that roundhouse kick properly and learnt how to shut up while they were sparring.

The sun was already out by the time they had finished. They returned inside, sweating profusely and wiping whatever they could on their already damp towels.

“You really ought to bend your knee properly with the roundhouse kick,” Yuuri begins to explain, taking out two water bottles from the nearby mini-fridge and tosses one to Phichit. He jogs lightly in his place to keep his heart rate steady. “And lean away from your kicking leg with your torso to keep your balance. Otherwise, you’re just performing a really bad roundhouse kick or the halfway point to a 45 degree and a roundhouse.”

“Got it,” Phichit says, adding a breathless laugh. “You, on the other hand, need to work on defenses. I know it’s just the masochist in you that you don’t mind being hit but it isn’t good form if you keep yourself in the open.”

Yuuri aims a side kick at Phichit but he easily dodges it with a simple twirl of his heel and sticks his tongue out at Yuuri as he makes a bee-line for the bathroom.

“Don’t take a bath until after twenty minutes.” Yuuri calls after him, taking a generous swig of his water before he sets it down and heads for the bathroom to change out of his sweaty shirt. He hears a muffled ‘yes dad’ in a mocking tone responding back to him and he rolls his eyes and opts to not dignify it with a response.

Rather than change into a new shirt, he opts to just go topless and heads back outside and drapes and ties an apron over his chest as he gets started with breakfast. For the amount of running around they’ll be having, as they’ll be travelling mostly on foot for the day, they needed protein. He gets started on preparing the ingredients for stuffed omelets.

By the time he had finished setting the food down on the dining table and set the plates, Phichit had emerged from the bedroom, hair wrapped up in a turban to keep it from dampening the blue plaid polo shirt he was wearing. He grins when he spots the food.

“You eat ahead. I’ll go take my shower,” Yuuri informs his partner, who doesn’t spare him a glance as he happily takes a generous portion and eats it with the freshly steamed rice on his plate.

When Yuuri emerges some thirty minutes later, it was to find Phichit still on the table, pouring over something on his tablet, a rare serious expression etched on his features.

“What is that?” Yuuri asks as he sits down on the chair across from Phichit.

“It’s a modified tablet that I found downstairs. It has Guang-Hong’s signature all over it,” He says without looking up. Yuuri raises an eyebrow, waiting for a more thorough explanation. Phichit probably senses his gaze (or the fact that he doesn’t hear the clattering of silverware on the ceramic plates to indicate that Yuuri was starting to eat) since he looks up to meet Yuuri’s questioning look.

“It’s basically been programmed to track a signal emanating from wherever a tracking device is attached to. It’s modelled after a tablet so no one would really find it weird if we used it in front of others. Right now, it has locked in on the coordinates of our target.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says dully. He picks up his share of the food with his chopsticks and sets it over his bowl of rice. “Where is the target right now?”

“At his Muntinlupa home,” Phichit answers immediately. “Specifically, in this neighborhood called Ayala Alabang. From what I gathered while you were in the bath, it’s an upscale neighborhood some twenty-five kilometres south from where we are. It’s approximately a fifty minute jeepney drive or we could take a train ride though I wouldn’t recommend either.”

“I don’t particularly want to operate in broad daylight in what you reportedly say is an upscale neighbourhood,” Yuuri deadpans. “That usually means CCTV cameras and since we don’t know the layout of the neighbourhood, let alone any blind spots the cameras may have, it wouldn’t be wise for us to go there. Not to mention the fact that we don’t even know what security measures there are of his current location and we did agree last night that we will take the no-contact approach with this operation.

“So what do you suggest we do today?” Phichit asks. “We can’t exactly do nothing until he goes out to play.”

Yuuri doesn’t reply immediately, mulling over his thoughts as he ate his breakfast. Finally, when he’s halfway finished into his bowl of rice, he gets the idea. Phichit must have noticed Yuuri’s expression as he suddenly looked intrigued.

Slowly, Yuuri asks him, “What is the security of his apartment like?”

 

\--

 

They didn’t set out immediately after breakfast. They first had to go downstairs and contact Guang-Hong to check out the security features of the target’s upscale condominium. As Guang-Hong operates out from the Beijing headquarters, the time difference was non-existent and he was currently available.

His cute features dominates the large computer monitor as soon as the call was accepted. He smiles pleasantly at them and they exchanged usual pleasantries before Yuuri asks him of the necessary details they’ll be needing.

“The security features of the building?” Guang-Hong says, sounding like he needed confirmation. At Phichit’s nod, he turns on his swivel chair and types something on a separate computer unit off to the side. “Do you also need a full blueprint of the building as well as the layouts?”

“Please.” Yuuri says. Guang-Hong tells them to wait for a few minutes. After a while, they receive and print out the blueprints and Phichit leaves Yuuri’s side to map out any possible escape routes by the table while Yuuri is being briefed about the security details.

The building was approximately thirty-stories high. The front entrance was guarded with two security officers and at the main lobby was a concierge and two more additional security guards, one stationed by the elevators, one for residents and another for service staff, and another guard was stationed alongside the concierge. Each floor’s hallway was equipped with 360 degrees CCTV cameras, with approximately three on each floor. The target’s floor was in the fifteenth and was located in one of the units that faced the back, granting them easier access.

The cameras did have its blind spots though with the unpredictability of the other residents on the target’s floor, neither Yuuri nor Phichit would want to risk going directly through the front door, which left them with the option to climb up the sides of the building, particularly the back. They’ll have to rely on thermal cameras to get a clue as to what the other residents might be doing and how safe it is for them to venture inside without being spotted.

“I can disable the camera at the back of the building where the fire escape is.” Guang-Hong offers, though he looks slightly doubtful. Yuuri asks him why he looked unsure.

“Well, it will take some time. As fast as I can type, I can’t perform miracles and make things go faster. It’ll take me about a few hours to hack into the security network of the building, disable that camera’s IP and whatnot…”

Time is what they don’t have, thinks Yuuri. They’re trying to make a point to their superiors (well, at least Yuuri was) that they can do this assignment efficiently but quickly too and for that, they don’t want to waste it waiting around for Guang-Hong. He glances over at Phichit, who is hearing the whole conversation and gives Yuuri the same skeptical look. They had gone over this matter last night, where Phichit assures Yuuri that they’ll finish this assignment without any setbacks and Yuuri would like to follow through with that agreement.

But Yuuri had to weigh in his decisions. A few hours of waiting won’t exactly be detrimental to the operation. It was just wasn’t as efficient as Yuuri would have liked. Really, a few hours isn’t going to hurt anyone but Yuuri’s control freak tendencies. Plus, there was also the concern with the target. They can’t exactly control what he does and where he goes.

“Guang-Hong, what is the status of the target? Are they still in Muntinpula?”

Guang-Hong turns to the same screen from earlier, fiddles with the keyboard and then returns to the screen once more. “Yes, they’re still there. I just have to inform you that the modified tablet you might have found there can track the movements of the target but only if they’re moving at a slow pace, or are immobile but not if they’re in a moving vehicle. It’s not like they disappear off the radar. You’ll be able to see little blips on the screen to indicate that the target is still wearing the tracking chip, though, but it will fade in and out until the tracking chip as at a much more stable and constant location.”

Yuuri makes note of this. He lifts his leg and crosses it over the other, mulling over his thoughts in silence. After a while, he senses Phichit moving back close towards him and sets down the marked papers on top of the computer’s keyboard.

“What are your plans, anyways?” Guang-Hong asks.

Being known for executing flawless and seamless operations—the kind where the police don’t even question any other motive because all evidence points to something that’s easy to explain—Yuuri suggested earlier to plant evidence of Mr. Langley’s supposed drug habits at his condo. His reasoning was that local police would want to investigate, considering that their target was an American, and they would be put under heavy scrutiny if they didn’t pay his death any attention, especially when the war on drugs in the country made it easy to pass off homicide was extrajudicial punishment.

Guang-Hong looks at them bemusedly, as if Phichit and Yuuri were missing the bigger picture. “You know, you don’t have to do that.”

Sure, of course they don’t. Yuuri knows that full well. Phichit knows that too, but Yuuri’s perfectionist tendencies usually overrode his better judgment. He wants this operation to be seamless; no questions asked by the authorities, as usual. He’s followed this code of conduct for as long as he has been within the organization and he’s not about to break this particular streak for the sake of convenience.

“Yes,” Phichit sighs. “Well, we know that but we don’t just want to be sitting on our asses until the man makes his move. Yuuri said that he didn’t want to go to where the target was now since there might be CCTV cameras and who knows what other security measures are in the premises.”

“I’ll check it out for you then,” Guang-Hong offers, moving away from his main screen yet again. It took a while, so Phichit and Yuuri spent their time looking for the equipment they’ll need for this morning’s excursion.

Guang-Hong returned sometime later and by that time, Yuuri and Phichit had already packed all the thing they’ll be needing in an unassuming-looking bag pack.

“Well, Yuuri was right about the CCTV cameras. Practically every house has one and then there’s the public CCTV cameras themselves. I can roughly estimate about a hundred twenty cameras or so, and that’s just covering the privately owned ones. Plus, the area is a gated community. There’s residents everywhere, especially at this time of day.”

Phichit lets out a low whistle, his eyes widening a bit in awe. “Then we’ll just go with our plan for today, yeah?” Phichit says. “Besides, I looked into the building and its location and found that it’s situated just in front of a cliff side so the back is pretty much safe for us to climb, save for that pesky camera, of course. Since the condo unit faces the back. ”

“If that’s the case then I’ll work on disabling it for you,” Guang-Hong offers, as though he really had much of a choice, though. The warm look in his brown eyes shift to a more critical look and his tone changes into something more business-like, prompting the other two to stand more at attention and school their expressions in to something less cordial and more focused and stoic.

“If you need me, you know how to contact me,” Guang-Hong tells them. “Good luck, _Eros, Philia._ Remember, there will be _no_ mistakes.”

Not if I have anything to say about it, thought Yuuri, who merely nods before watching as the connection died off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Fleur - French. It means flower. 
> 
> Pasensya na po, sir. Pinahintay ko po kayo - Filipino. It means "I'm sorry, sir. I made you wait." 
> 
> Walang anoman. Sige na, umalis na tayo - Filipino. It means "No problem. C'mon, let's go already." 
> 
> Ah, yung sobre at mapa na nasa likod. Para sa iyong dalawa yun. - Filipino. It means "Ah, the envelope and map at the back; they're for you two." 
> 
> \--
> 
> A/N:  
> Imagine Seung-Gil and Otabek on a mission together. They can intimidate their opponents purely through staring at them stoically in the eyes. (I don't ship them, by the way) 
> 
> Also, I can't speak Filipino properly so feel free to correct me and my statements, if you want to. I always had low grades in my filipino subjects at school so forgive me for that, haha. Hell, I can't even speak Bisaya well. 
> 
> \-- 
> 
> For updates, feel free to check my [Tumblr.](https://meixiu-writes.tumblr.com/)


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